


Between the Mountain and the River

by Rynne



Series: My Love Has Two Lives [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Bang Challenge, Drama, Established Relationship, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Growing Old Together, M/M, Old Married Space Husbands, Old Men Having Adventures, Plot, Post Star Trek: Into Darkness, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynne/pseuds/Rynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/280389">Start Infinity Again</a>.  Jim Kirk has survived the Nexus and falling through a black hole into another universe, and he and Spock have settled onto New Vulcan with the rest of the Vulcan colonists. However, the Vulcans are having trouble dealing with their pain, Sybok has appeared, and somehow Jim keeps getting briefly dropped into other universes. Jim may have retired from Starfleet, but he finds there's still plenty of work for him to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, enormous thanks go to **museattack** for the amazing beta job -- you made this so much better and I am so much more satisfied with it. Many thanks also to **Neth** for the wonderful artwork!
> 
> This is a sequel to [Start Infinity Again](http://archiveofourown.org/works/280389). Reading that would definitely help, but I hope it's not necessary. What you basically need to know is that Jim survived Generations, got back together with Spock, fell into the Reboot universe with him, and decided to go to New Vulcan with him at the end of STXI. As a legacy of his time in the Nexus, he has a latent empathic talent, as well as a sort of universe sense, being able to detect universe shifts. He also got a doctorate in starship engineering, just for something to do.
> 
> Thanks also go to **thyla_bigbang** , for running such a fun bang and giving me the incentive to get this thing finished and posted!
> 
> I have further acknowledgements I'm posting at the end because they're spoilery.

_In my country there is a mountain._  
In my country there is a river.

_Come with me._

_Night climbs up to the mountain.  
Hunger goes down to the river._

_Come with me._

_Who are those who suffer?  
I do not know, but they are my people._

_Come with me._

_I do not know, but they call to me  
and they say to me: "We suffer."_

_Come with me._

_And they say to me: "Your people,_  
your luckless people,  
between the mountain and the river,  
with hunger and grief,  
they do not want to struggle alone,  
they are waiting for you, friend." 

_Oh you, the one I love,_  
little one, red grain  
of wheat, 

_the struggle will be hard,_  
life will be hard,  
but you will come with me.  
\--Pablo Neruda, "The Mountain and the River"

 

Jim sank into a light meditative trance next to Spock, trying to let go of all the day’s stresses with a drawn-out sigh. Building a colony was no easy task, especially when he was no longer in his prime. 

As much as Jim hated the circumstances of their relocation to Ha-kel, commonly called New Vulcan in the rest of the Federation, he enjoyed most of his life there. The weather was almost always hot -- Ha-kel tilted on its axis even less than Vulcan had, so there were pretty much no distinguishable seasons -- but while Jim didn't enjoy heat as much as his Vulcan bondmate did, he found he appreciated it more as he got older. And the heat did make cuddling up with the cooler body of his bondmate more welcome at night.

But he felt more useful than he had since before his retirement from Starfleet. He'd enjoyed his work in theoretical engine design, partly for the puzzle of it and partly because it allowed him to remain near Spock when he was stationed on Romulus, but he had always wanted to spend his life making a difference. 

He was certainly making a difference on Ha-kel. There were so many details involved with building a colony, especially after such devastation. And the Vulcans -- they needed the help more than most colonists, who just wanted the challenge of building a new home. The Vulcans had no choice, and they were very aware of it. 

Vulcans had always been an industrious people, but before the colonization of Ha-Kel, he had rarely seen them work until they dropped from exhaustion. Now, however, more than once he had shown up for work only to find several of his colleagues had worked through the night. On two separate occasions, one had fainted where he stood when Jim had tried to send him home to rest.

"There is so much to do," they always argued. Jim could not disagree, but he did remind them they did not have to do it all at once. But they did not listen to him, because they just kept up their grueling pace.

He could feel something of the emotional atmosphere around him, legacy of a latent talent activated by his time in the Nexus many years ago. He could feel the Vulcans' determination, but he could also feel their sense of loss, and their constant attempts to numb it.

One consolation was the survival of T'Pau, one of the Elders the younger Spock had rescued. Jim had once called her all of Vulcan in one person, and he was unaccountably glad that she had lived. She was the Eldest Mother of the Vulcan people, the matriarch of the House of Surak, in many ways part of Vulcan's very heart. She certainly represented it, though she would raise an eyebrow at the emotional symbolism. It was a relief for the Vulcan people as a whole that they had not lost her.

However, as much as she was all of Vulcan in one person, that also included Vulcan stubbornness. She had refused to consider that the ways of the Vulcan people might have to change in the wake of the tragedy, as Jim was growing increasingly sure they must.

"It is in the wake of devastation that our ways must most be preserved," she had told Jim when he brought it up to her, just a few months into the colonizing process. "The Vulcan Way must not be lost."

"I agree," Jim said. "But that doesn't mean it shouldn't be adapted. Your people haven't seen this much devastation since before the Reformation, and never on this scale. That has to be taken into account."

"It has been," T'Pau replied implacably. "Thy concern is appreciated, James, but it is unnecessary. The Vulcans will rebuild."

That had been the end of it -- T'Pau had spoken.

Jim was not going to give up, though. The Vulcans were immersed in grief, as much as they tried to bear it. Vulcans learned at a young age learned how to deal with grief, always a powerful emotion, but they had never had to deal with grief like this. There were very few people even from the established colonies who hadn't lost people on the homeworld -- but even for those who hadn't, it was the homeworld. No Vulcan was entirely free from grief, except possibly the Kolinahru Adepts who had completely purged their emotions.

Spock cautioned him to patience, though, as Spock typically did. The Vulcans were a rigid people, Spock reminded him. They could not change so much in the course of a few months, or even a few years.

Jim found himself not entirely satisfied with that, though. The Vulcans had already had their lives changed so drastically that he wasn't sure they were even able to process it yet. Their lives had changed so much -- they would have to change as well, or else risk breaking under the weight of a burden they didn't know how to bear.

\--

"I got a message from Bones today."

Jim stretched his legs, shaking out the pins and needles so familiar to him after time spent meditating. He swung his arms around and rolled his head, then moved from the meditation area to sit on the couch.

McCoy communicated with him sporadically -- and most often, it seemed, when he was exasperated with Jim's younger counterpart. It made Jim laugh. He'd missed McCoy's frequent deprecations of his common sense.

"I assume he was in an entirely jovial mood and wanted to share his peace and positive emotional state with you?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow as he came out of own his meditation. He also knew the content of most of McCoy's messages. He stood with greater ease than Jim had, and joined him on the couch.

Jim laughed. "Not hardly! He wanted to know if I ended up under his counterpart's care as often as the kid ends up under his." 

"Khan," Spock murmured, his sense along the bond darkening. Jim grimaced -- McCoy's message had indeed included ranting about trying to take care of the younger Kirk after his death at Khan's hands and later resurrection, but Jim hadn't been going to mention that name. Apart from Jim not liking to dwell on it himself -- would he never be free of Khan? -- news of the younger Kirk's sacrifice had hit Spock hard.

Jim knew Spock was reminding himself that the younger Kirk was now alive and well and back to bothering Bones, and gave him a moment. Then he wrapped an arm around Spock's shoulders, drawing his head down to rest against Jim's neck. "I'm going to send him a reply telling him to watch out for your younger self, since you were the daredevil on our ship!" Jim teased.

"My decisions were always entirely logical," Spock replied, letting himself slump against Jim’s body, his side of the bond warm and bright again as he responded to his own reassurance and Jim’s distraction. "With my Vulcan physiology--"

"Always superior, of course."

"--I was better equipped to survive situations that would have killed a human. You are aware of this, Jim. And do not pretend to innocence. Or do you intend to inform the doctor as to how often you got into physical fights?"

Jim flapped a hand. "And how often did those land me in Sickbay? Once, twice? But you, Mister--" He grinned, then shifted them both, with Spock’s silent help, until they lay flush against each other on the sofa, legs tangled, Jim propped against the arm with Spock’s head on his chest.

"I hope you do not presume to accuse me of _seeking out_ such things as the creature on Deneva and the flintlock rifle on Neural. Those were pure chance."

"Yes, and the dart-spitting flower on -- what was that planet--"

"Gamma Trianguli VI. And if you'll recall, the plant was aiming for you, and we had already observed it kill one human."

"--And the way you tripped that forcefield!"

"My tricorder gave no indication of its effects until I encountered them myself," Spock replied, very dignified. His eyes were laughing.

"Yes, of course." Jim inclined his head in an exaggerated motion. "But you can't tell me your mind meld with V'Ger was purely logical."

"It was logical, Jim," Spock insisted as Jim laughed. "The _Enterprise_ had been unable to determine its origins or purpose. Attempting to discover these through the use of a meld was logical." He paused. "But it was also perhaps somewhat reckless."

"Well, you survived, so you won't catch me complaining."

At the time, though, Jim had been terrified. To discover Spock had left the ship, alone...to go out in a spacesuit himself to catch an unconscious Vulcan in his arms...to wait while McCoy and Chapel discussed strange brainwave patterns--

But in the end, that experience had led them to their deeper bond. If Spock had never melded with V'Ger, if he had never seen what a consciousness of pure logic was actually like -- would he have ever been willing to accept Jim's love for him, his own love for Jim? As much as Jim hated Spock putting his life in danger, he could only be grateful at the results.

"You are very gracious," Spock replied solemnly. "Your complaints would render the experience unbearable to recall. I could never remember with fondness or even neutrality something my bondmate so vociferously dislikes. I am entirely gratified you will refrain."

"I bet." Jim, reclined on the sofa with his back against the arm, contemplated taking the pillow behind him and hitting Spock with it. He decided against it, mostly because his back would be less than happy to press against the harder arm.

But thoughts of V'Ger inevitably led Jim to Spock's process of accepting his emotions, and his mind caught on his lack of progress with the Vulcan refugees. He sighed. "What are we going to do, Spock?" he asked. "Everyone keeps dismissing me when I try to suggest maybe repression isn't the way to go here. I had to send another person to the hospital after she fainted from exhaustion, and I'm not sure she actually went. I wouldn't be surprised if she just went back to work when I wasn't around."

Now Spock shifted until he could more easily look Jim in the eye, propped up on his elbow. "I could remind you of the rigid nature of my people," he said, "but I believe that is not what you are requesting. Jim, all people grieve in their own ways. It is for us to let them decide how they feel most comfortable doing so."

"But if they're not grieving, Spock? If they're trying to avoid it?"

After Jim's return from the Nexus, he had not wanted to let himself grieve for the life he had lost -- in the Nexus, and his life before the Nexus. He had done the best he could to avoid it. Spock had eventually insisted he face his pain and grief.

And Spock was remembering that now, Jim could tell. Avoiding the pain, suppressing the pain -- never a successful path to actually processing the pain, and being able to move on.

"We are different species, and we handle our emotions differently--" Spock began, but Jim shook his head.

"You can't deal with pain if you pretend it's not there," Jim said. "Human or Vulcan, it doesn't matter. I _have_ read Surak, Spock. He said the same thing. Pretending there is not a _le-matya_ in your house will not make it go away if there is one."

"Perhaps," Spock suggested, "what you see as repression is merely an attempt to keep the pain in private and conduct public affairs normally. My people _are_ inclined to keep much of ourselves private. After all, I do not reveal as much of myself in public as I do when alone with you."

Jim leaned his head back. "Possible," he conceded. After so long with Spock, he understood well the Vulcan impulse toward privacy. "That's just not exactly the feeling I get. The tone is very...tense here, Spock. And it keeps getting tenser. If the Vulcans were healing from what happened with Nero, wouldn't the atmosphere be relaxing? Instead it feels sort of like a spring coiling tighter and tighter."

"And you believe it will snap." 

Jim nodded. "I think it has to. The tension has to go somewhere. I don't want the same sort of explosion to occur as with our younger counterparts."

"That should be avoided, yes." Spock returned his head to Jim’s chest, but Jim knew he was thinking about the problem. 

Eventually, Spock said, "You do have a greater facility for understanding the emotions of others, particularly since your return from the Nexus and the advent of your latent talent." Spock’s voice lowered and turned soft and fond. "It is also your nature to desire to help. I will not dismiss your concerns, Jim."

"Then you will help me persuade the High Council there is a problem?"

After a beat, Spock nodded against his chest. Jim could feel his agreement, and his commitment of support. He sent his own gratitude in a mental caress.

Jim mentally composed his response to McCoy's message, too relaxed and comfortable to be willing to get up and actually record it yet. Replying could wait a day or so. He still had a message from the younger Spock about two days ago he had not responded to yet, though he intended to within the next few days.

Their communications with the crew of the _Enterprise_ were actually sort of funny. The younger Spock kept up a regular correspondence with Jim, while Jim's alternate self corresponded with Jim's own Spock. Jim didn't have trouble keeping from getting too intimate, at least; he and Spock found themselves acting more parental to the younger pair than anything else. The other Kirk seemed to appreciate having someone who believed in him unconditionally, as his father would have had he lived. The younger Spock, bereft of his human mother, still had someone to ask questions about emotions of, someone who understood and appreciated the Vulcan way but would encourage him to explore the rest of his heritage.

The younger pair's progression on their own relationship was something Jim and Spock mostly had to read between the lines about, since their alternates rarely mentioned each other except in brief asides. They knew the younger pair continued to play chess, and that they had already begun to appreciate the other's strengths as officers and commanders.

That was good enough for the first year, Jim figured and Spock agreed. The rest would come in time.

Hours after their discussion on the tension within the colony, they went to bed without discussing anything of similar import. Jim closed his eyes as Spock spooned behind him, feeling reassured that even if he had to go against the entire High Council, at least he had Spock with him.

\--

Jim wasn't sure what woke him up, apart from the shock. It could have been the cool breeze suddenly rushing across him, or the absence of the bed beneath him and the substitute of hard, dirt-strewn ground. Perhaps it was the lack of Spock's even breathing and the gentle buzz of his sleeping mind; Jim could only feel a fog where Spock should be.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the night sky above him, the stars patterned in configurations no one had yet traced into constellations. He sat up, utterly bemused. He had not gone to bed under the open sky.

He blinked, and blinked again, trying to make himself wake up. Where was Spock? He couldn't feel the bond, but it didn't feel broken. There was no pain in his mind. He just felt...clouded.

He couldn't tell if he was dreaming or not. He'd gotten better at lucid dreaming since his bonding with Spock, who had such control over his own dreams, but when he tried to shift his surroundings back to his house, nothing happened. The breeze continued to chill him, dressed in thin sleep clothes as he was, and the dirt dug uncomfortably into his bare feet and into his ass as he sat.

Jim stood up and brushed himself off, ignoring the prick of sand and tiny rocks beneath his feet, which he couldn't do anything about.

This...was Shi'masu, his new home. Jim recognized the foothills surrounding him, the plain below him. He turned around and in the distance could see the rise of Mount Sreman.

Except the land around him was inexplicably empty of a civilization Jim had seen steadily growing for the past year.

Shi'masu, the first city of Ha-kel, was not a poetic name for the city. Or at least, it was not just a poetic name. Shi'masu was built on the biggest oasis the planetary survey team could find, based right at the edge of the foothills that led up to a greater mountain range. Like Shi'Kahr on Old Vulcan, the closest city to the sacred Mount Seleya, Shi'masu was a mere thousand kilometers or so from the base of the mountain where the old adepts of Gol were building their new retreat, called now Mount Sreman for an ancient Vulcan mountain spirit. There were not very many masters left, since only those masters who had not been at the monastery had survived, and they numbered in the small dozens. There were plenty who had undergone the Kolinahr disciplines and then resumed their lives in society, and many of these survived, but there were few now of what had been Vulcan's most highly respected citizens. 

Even a year after the destruction of their home planet, Vulcans continued to arrive on the colony nearly every week. The Vulcanis Lunar Colony had not been affected by Nero's revenge, nor their few other scattered colonies. The surviving Vulcan High Council had issued a request for all Vulcans who felt able to come establish a new Vulcan colony, intended to be the home base of the surviving Vulcan race. Many Vulcans remained on what had been their home, but many also came to Ha-kel, until by the end of the first year Shi'masu held two million Vulcans, half of the surviving population, squashed into communal housing as the needs for food, energy, and defense were prioritized.

It was only in the more recent months that individual projects could be worked on. The elders of the colony had first claim on individual housing, which meant that Jim and Spock could get their first choice of site, on top of one of the smaller foothills just outside the city.

Now Jim stood on the foothill where he had made his home, but the city was gone. The house he shared with Spock was gone. The stretch of isolated buildings spreading out across the desert -- they were gone as well.

He stood alone, surrounded by nothing but bare desert and rock. He could be the only living thing on Ha-kel, apart from the native plants and animals.

But...it was wrong. The universe just didn't _feel_ right. How could he have gotten here?

Bewildered, Jim started walking. He didn't have a communicator handy, so he couldn't check to see if anyone was around. Walking would probably not do any good either, not with the landscape empty and the city on the plain disappeared, but he felt better doing something than just standing around on top of a bare hill.

He picked his way carefully down the hill -- there was no longer any sort of road or path to guide him. He did his best to avoid sharp or big rocks, but the only light came from the stars, not bright enough to prevent him from stubbing his toe twice and accumulating small cuts on his feet and ankles. He ignored them.

He tried hard not to panic, but he couldn't slow the frantic beating of his heart. How could an entire city have disappeared -- everyone except for him? And why couldn't he feel his bond with Spock -- anything about his bond? Even whether Spock was dead or alive? His mind just felt entirely clouded.

He had to be dreaming. It made no sense for a whole city to disappear except for one person, or for his bond with Spock to be randomly blocked.

But he could feel the wind, the dirt beneath his feet, the sting of the cuts on his feet as they bled lightly into the air. How could it be a dream?

Then, between one step and another, he woke up. His eyes were already opened, but felt dry, and he blinked several times. Finally he opened them again to see ceiling above his head. He was reclining on a bed, and there was a pillow beneath him, sheets on top of him, Spock's arm around his waist and the warmth of him steady at Jim's back. Their bond had also returned -- had never left? -- and Spock's sleeping presence murmured strongly in his mind.

He brought his knees up so he could feel his feet, the skin free of cuts. He could remember the sting, very distinctly, but his skin was smooth.

"Jim?" Spock said groggily from behind him. The warmth of Spock's forehead lifted from the back of Jim's neck. "You are agitated. Did you dream?"

Jim only realized his body had tensed when he felt it start to relax at Spock's voice. He consciously told the rest of his muscles to relax as well and stretched out to loosen himself. He shifted around until he faced Spock, needing to actually see him.

"I didn't disappear, right?" he asked, feeling slightly foolish for the question. The experience had been...so vivid. He noticed the thin note of distress in his voice only after he finished speaking.

Spock's eyes sharpened as he woke up further. "In no way," he said. "What did you dream, Jim?"

Jim shook his head, trying to dispel the feelings. His heart was beating just as it had during the dream, though he was certainly awake now. "The world was empty," he said and left it at that. "Don't worry about it. It was just a dream."

Spock felt dubious, but Jim shook his head slightly, trying to put it out of his mind so he could go back to sleep, and Spock didn’t press him. It was only a dream, he told himself again.

No matter what it felt like, it could not have been anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

When he woke up the next morning, Jim put the dream behind him, disregarding the lingering sense of disquiet. Under the bright light of the system's star, his fear and his panic seemed both distant and foolish, easily banished by the light and the heat of the day. As Spock went to the site of the Ha-kel Science Academy, Jim went on to do his own work with an easier heart. Spock worked with Ha-Kel’s planetary defense system, and Jim assisted where he could, but while he had some facility with computers, he did not have an A7 rating. Jim helped more in the designs and workings of their energy system. It was not starship engineering, which was what he had his doctorate in, but his knowledge was best adapted to planetary engineering in energy design. Both starships and planets needed energy.

Today, however, he was scheduled to meet with Sarek, currently the Council's representative, to discuss provisions for the colony.

Transporter technology was another aspect of his degree in starship engineering, and Jim knew enough to be competent. Replicators, which were based on transporter technology, had become something of a hobby, though he'd only gained the leisure to study them in depth after his retirement from Starfleet. Ever since witnessing the deaths of half a colony on Tarsus IV because of food shortages, it had been important to Jim to make sure all of his people always had enough food.

Though the colony did have Vulcans who studied transporters and replicators, Jim was probably the most knowledgeable about them -- he got his degree in the future, but still had the experience of knowing how they worked in this time period. He could adapt future knowledge to current technology fairly easily, and while Jim wasn't sure Spock entirely approved of this disbursement of future knowledge, he didn't caution Jim otherwise.

"Dr. Kirk," Sarek said, when Jim reached his office. He held up his hand in the ta'al, and Jim repeated the gesture before sitting down in front of Sarek's desk. They were often less formal when meeting casually -- Sarek would, at least, use Jim’s first name -- but today Jim was meeting his sort-of father-in-law for business.

"Ambassador Sarek." Jim didn't bother with "illogical" small talk, and launched right into their topic. "How are the hydroponics?"

"Settling well," Sarek replied. "We only have one biosphere at the moment, which limits the amount we can grow. The climate here is not exactly as Vulcan's was, and we are not certain how the plants will survive in these conditions. We only have a limited quantity of seeds, and do not wish to risk them."

"Certainly not," Jim agreed. "Is it your intention to resume open-air farming once you're sure the plants will be able to survive?"

Sarek tilted his head. "The Council has not yet decided," he said. "We do not wish to put a burden on the native ecosystems. Our own plants would be considered an invasive species. The simplest solution will likely be to continue growing our own plants in biospheres and rely on replicators to ensure we have sufficient quantities."

Jim nodded. "Logical," he said, his lips twitching. "However, I don't believe we'll be able to rely on replicators for some years yet. The colony has very few, and none yet for individual homes. Furthermore, the ones we have aren't sophisticated enough to handle all of our needs, from seeds to plants to prepared meals. I can teach others what I know about them, but that's going to take time, as is building the new prototypes and enough of the new prototypes."

"We have time," Sarek replied. "The Federation keeps us very well supplied. We are not yet in a state of crisis regarding provisions, nor do I believe that crisis to be imminent. You will have your students, Dr. Kirk."

He hadn't been a teacher for years, but Vulcans, at least, were very good students. His biggest problem would probably be keeping up with them.

"Can I see the biosphere?" Jim asked.

Sarek tilted his head. "For what purpose, if the replicators are not yet ready?"

Jim shrugged. "I can at least get the patterns," he said. "We might have to store them in the transporter mainframe for now and get them to the replicators themselves later, but we might as well do this much in advance."

In response, Sarek rose and came out from behind his desk. "Would it tax you to walk to the biosphere? It is perhaps two kilometers from here."

Jim tried very hard not to roll his eyes. "I'm old, not dead," he said. "It's still pretty early in the morning. I can walk a couple klicks."

If it had been later in the day, he definitely would have preferred an air-conditioned aircar, but more because humans just weren't built for the kind of sun the colony had. He tried not to spend much time outside in the middle of the afternoon if he could help it. But while that was a reasonable precaution in light of the colony's conditions, he did not need to be coddled.

"You don't have to come with me," he pointed out as they left the building. "Don't you have other work to do?"

"I would find it useful to inspect the biosphere myself," Sarek replied serenely. "I have not been there since the seeds were initially planted. I welcome the opportunity to observe the progress for myself."

He walked through the morning's heat like it was a refreshing spring day. Which to him it probably was. Sarek had settled on another foothill near Jim and Spock’s, and Jim recalled he often walked the several kilometers to work and back each day.

While Jim and Spock had settled into a modest house, big enough just for them and a guest or two, Sarek's was much bigger. Ready and waiting for the new family that Sarek would eventually build.

Jim didn't know how long Sarek had before he would have to remarry, and he knew better than to ask. But he knew that Sarek had to, and that he intended to have more children. In Jim's own universe, Sarek had never had another child after Spock, even with his new wife after Amanda's death. Jim had never had the chance to ask him why.

Sarek would not have that luxury here. The Vulcan population had been reduced from roughly thirteen billion to four million. They were not extinct, but they were far from the population threshold they wanted to feel comfortable.

Jim wondered how the younger Spock felt at the prospect of becoming an older brother. Jim's own Spock was mostly intrigued at the idea, but his relationship with the Sarek of this time was strange. They were willing to acknowledge each other as family, as Clan, but decided it was best not to claim immediate family. Spock was, after all, a good sixty years older than Sarek now.

Unlike Sarek, though, Jim could not walk to work regularly without risking heat stroke; two kilometers was about his limit. It wasn't _too_ hot for Jim to be out, but neither was it entirely pleasant. He could already feel the sweat building on his forehead and the back of his neck.

Jim let silence fall between them on the rest of their walk, since he didn't really have anything else to say, apart from small talk. As a diplomat, Sarek was proficient at it, but though Jim would have felt more comfortable with conversation to distract him from the heat, very often he found himself making more concessions to Vulcan sensibilities. Vulcans disdained small talk, and he was living on the planet they were making into their home, so it just seemed more polite to make them feel as comfortable as possible.

The sweat started dripping down his back, and he suppressed a sigh. Even if it made him less comfortable.

A distant buzz of raised voices caught his attention, and he jerked his head around to see where it was. Vulcans rarely raised their voices. As Jim’s eyes slid past Sarek's face, though, its utter stillness stopped him for a moment. Sarek's face seemed even more carefully blank than was usual.

Jim deliberately turned his head further, looking for the source of the disturbance. What he saw was enough explanation for Sarek’s blank face, but this one Jim couldn't let go.

Without a word to Sarek, Jim turned on his heel and marched off to the two young Vulcans, in perhaps early adolescence, who stood taut in front of each other, voices still raised by not quite shouting. 

"--don’t understand, _can’t_ understand, _you_ have not lost them all--" one boy said, half-hissing, half-stammering the words.

"Can't I?" the other interrupted, a sage flush suffusing his cheeks. "My aunt and uncle and cousins are not _enough_?"

" _No,_ " the first boy spat. "You can’t understand, you can’t even see how _lucky_ you are--"

Jim saw the other boy’s face twist and then go blank, just as Spock’s once had when Jim provoked him into fighting free of mind-altering spores, and knew where this was going. "Hey!" he shouted, breaking into a jog. The second boy's head jerked up, but only momentarily before his eyes fixed once again on the first boy. Before Jim could reach them, he threw himself forward, shoulder slamming into the first boy's gut. Jim winced in sympathy, but the first boy barely blinked. He started beating on the second boy's back, flailing fists catching him once about the ear, knocking his head back, grunting wordlessly as the second boy shouted incomprehensibly.

Jim reached out to pull them apart, but before he could get a grip on the first boy's collar to pull him away, someone else did it first.

"Stop this unseemly display immediately," an adult Vulcan ordered both boys, her voice harsh but low. She let go of the first boy, then wrapped a hand around the wrist of the second, her other hand brushing against green bruising beginning to bloom on his head before jerking away and tucking into the folds of her robes. His mother, perhaps? She looked around, meeting Jim's eyes briefly before turning away without acknowledging him. "Come," she said to both boys, and as they strode away, no longer touching, Jim heard her say, "The medical center is busy enough without treating unruly children who behave illogically. You will both apologize to the healers--"

"You should not have interfered," Sarek said, drawing Jim's attention to him where he now stood beside Jim.

Jim crossed his arms. "They were about to start fighting in _public_ ," he replied pointedly.

"Perhaps they would have restrained themselves, had you not called attention to your impending interference with their quarrel," Sarek said. Jim opened his mouth to point out all the ways that did not make sense when Sarek continued, "It was for the boys' guardians to end it, if they could not stop themselves. We have another appointment."

Jim closed his mouth and let his arms fall. He had a lot of things to say, but he bit his tongue against them. The atmosphere didn't need to get even more heated than it already was, literally and metaphorically. He'd think about what arguments he wanted to make against this whole let-it-go course of action, but he wanted to do it with some air conditioning.

Jim almost didn't realize when they reached the biosphere, and it seemed he'd only blinked after the fight ended and they were standing outside with Sarek looking at him. He gave a little half-shrug and let Sarek precede him inside.

The air was slightly drier inside the biosphere, the heat somewhat less oppressive. Ha-kel had slightly greater humidity than Vulcan had had, with more water on its surface, and the drier heat was at least somewhat easier to take. Not much, though.

Sarek went off to inspect the plants himself, while Jim headed to the main office. There was a small transporter there, which was how many of the plants had arrived. Not everything in the biosphere had been grown from a seed on Ha-kel -- several plants had been preserved by Vulcans living off-planet when Nero hit. Those plants had been donated to the new colony when the biosphere was set up, and had been transported directly there to preserve them as well as possible.

Those plants already had their patterns stored in the transporter, but that still left all the other plants. He probably didn't even have to do this himself, and certainly couldn't do all of it, since there were a lot of plants, but what he could do, he wanted to.

After helping himself to some offered water, he told T'Han, the director of the plant life conservation project, what he needed: mostly just time and some fiddling with the transporter computer to make sure it saved all the patterns in a specific location for later retrieval. He also asked her to have some of her workers continue the project until all the individual species had been saved once he was gone, and she inclined her head in agreement.

When he finished his modifications to the transporter computer, he wandered back out into the main biosphere, which was a riot of plant life. The foliage was not almost uniformly green, as it would have been on his home planet, though many plants were a duller green, almost a sage color -- perhaps unsurprising, since on Earth sage was a desert plant.

The overwhelming color in this room, though, was red, every shade from a paler pink to the orange glow closer to sunset to a vibrant crimson to a ruby so deep it was almost black. The Vulcans had actually arranged them according to shade so the room looked like the entire red spectrum, exactly in order according to frequency, with thin bands of other colors mixed in to rest the eyes. The effect was rather stunning.

After pausing to take it in, Jim moved forward to join Sarek, who stood near a rust-shaded bush close to the center of one row. "The plants are doing well?" he asked as he approached.

"Acceptable," Sarek replied. "There have been some difficulties with native insects, but none insurmountable. Your task is complete as well?"

"As much as I can do. It will be easier for the staff here to actually be the ones entering all the patterns in, though. I just set the computer up for easier access later."

Sarek nodded, and the two of them left. Jim closed his eyes briefly when back out under the sun, but he followed Sarek when he began walking back towards his office.

"Dr. Kirk," Sarek said as they walked, "you might wish to stop by the medical center nearest you at your earliest convenience. The healers have developed an inoculation suitable for humans for the latest illness."

His voice carried a hint of irony, and Jim grimaced. The latest illness.

The Vulcans had not been able to plan their colony as thoroughly as they would have a more voluntary one, and there were plenty of native bacteria and viruses they hadn't had time to prepare themselves for before beginning to live and build here. So far most of the illnesses had been minor and mild, but the latest one was somewhat more virulent, particularly in children and the elderly. Spock had insisted that Jim stay away from any place it was concentrated. So far no humans had caught it and no one knew how it would affect them, except it likely would if they were exposed. 

Jim had agreed, but only after extracting a similar promise from Spock.

"I will certainly do that," Jim agreed. "Thanks for letting me know."

Sarek lifted an eyebrow at him, as if to remind him of the illogic of expressing thanks, and Jim grinned. As many behavioral concessions as Jim was making to the Vulcans, he wasn't going to act like he'd grown pointed ears and straightened eyebrows and rearranged his internal organs.

The Vulcans also needed to be comfortable dealing with other species. 

Jim and Spock would have to have Sarek come for dinner again; he had done so several times already, and seemed to relax further with each visit. It wasn’t familial, but it was friendly. 

It wasn't later than mid-morning, so once he parted with Sarek, Jim decided to just go get the inoculation over with before the afternoon heat left him enervated and ready for a nap. He did take public transport instead of walking, though, because the nearest hospital was about five kilometers away and he'd already filled his exercise-in-horrible-heat requirement for the day.

Some other humans were waiting for their inoculations when he got there, a few Starfleet technicians and three women dressed in the uniform of the Interplanetary Red Cross. He had no idea who they were -- there were enough humans on this planet right now for him not to know all of them individually, despite having a species in common -- but he nodded at them to be friendly, and they nodded back. Vulcans were as self-sufficient as they could be, of course, but they did allow aid workers on their new planet, and they allowed those aid workers to do their jobs. Jim was in the strange position of being one of the new citizens, who would continue to live there even when the colony was complete enough for the aid workers to leave, but he was still not Vulcan. 

The inoculation went smoothly when it was his turn, the Vulcan healers as efficient as ever. On his way out, though, he decided to stop by the children's ward, to see if the boys who had been fighting earlier were there. This would have been the closest hospital to the fight.

He didn't know very many of the settlement's children personally, and none of them very well. So many of them were orphans, shoved by their parents onto transports off the planet. All of them had at least been claimed, but Jim doubted that made it very much easier for them. He thought even the Vulcans, inexperienced with understanding emotion, could see how lost those children were.

And sick ones would have it even harder. They'd survived the destruction of their home and the deaths of their families, but now found themselves coughing and burning with a fever. They were too young to know the healing trance, and there weren't enough trained Vulcan healers to put them all in trances and have them monitored, so they had to just endure it.

Children were a lot tougher than many people gave them credit for, but it was still very difficult to just watch them endure, knowing they suffered, and not just because they were too sick -- or in too much pain -- to hide it. Those boys were proof of many of the children's difficulties.

The hospital was comparatively rudimentary; the builders had not had time to construct primarily individual rooms, so most of the wards really were wards, rooms full of rows of beds. A glance around showed that neither of the fighting boys were in this ward, and Jim tried not to be disappointed; it had been a long shot that he would see them, and he wasn't sure what he would have said. The children were no more likely than the adults to give him an honest assessment of their emotional health.

Only a dozen children, most of them pallid, eyes sunken, shivering despite the warm air, seemed to be cooped up in this particular hospital. Only one had a visitor, an older man who sat in a chair beside a teenager’s bed. The man read a datapadd without glancing at the teenager, who lay on her back, looking at the man until she closed her eyes and slowly turned over to lay on her side.

Looking away from the scene, Jim recognized a patient as his eye passed over her, and thought he might as well see what he could do for one Vulcan child.

"Hello, T'Korin," Jim said, strolling closer to her bed, where she was sitting up, perusing a padd.

"Dr. Kirk," she replied, resting the padd in her lap. Her normally dark skin retained a sickly pallor, and she clutched the padd as her hands trembled. "You are not ill?"

He shook his head. "Just getting my inoculation. I thought I'd see if there were any kids who might like cheering up."

She gave him an unimpressed look. Jim repressed a laugh. "Vulcans do not need 'cheering up,'" she replied predictably. "To be cheered and to be without cheer are both emotional states."

"Well, maybe I'm the one who's cheered up, then," he said, smiling at her.

"If it fulfills one of your emotional needs to converse with me, I will not resist you," she said solemnly, and Jim's smile widened. She was an adorable girl, almost pixie-like, the granddaughter of one of the surviving High Council members, of whom only a few survived; Elder Kopek was her only living relation left. He was particularly stuffy, but T'Korin had a lovely wry sense of humor.

"I am gratified," he said, inclining his head toward her. "Not everyone is willing to indulge my illogical need to be human, you know."

"The need to act in accordance with the tenets of your species is not illogical," she said, her brows furrowing slightly.

"I don't mind adapting myself to fit the circumstances."

She tilted her head to the side. "I have observed humans to be very adaptable."

Jim had been about to reply when he caught sight of the Vulcan healer who had just entered the ward and headed for the bed nearest the door, probably starting on rounds. He had actually blinked and had to look again, because he wasn't sure he entirely believed it.

The healer was younger than Jim had ever seen him, but he still looked remarkably the same as when Jim had known him in his own universe. His hair was wilder than Vulcans typically kept theirs, and he had a beard, though most Vulcans didn't, particularly beards so blatantly shaggy. But when he turned his head and Jim could see his face full-on, he had no doubts.

It was Sybok, Spock's older half-brother, who had once been exiled for rejecting Surak's principles on emotion.

"Dr. Kirk, do you know Healer Sybok?" T'Korin asked, and Jim tore his eyes away to look at her again.

"Not exactly," he said. "I know his father and brother, though. I didn't realize he was on Ha-kel."

"He was already here when I arrived," she said. She'd only been there three days, though, so who knew how long Sybok had really been there.

Jim looked at him again, unable to stop. His feelings about Sybok were conflicted -- Sybok had once hijacked his ship, but he had done it in a quest for respect and validation, and he had ended up sacrificing his life in part for Jim's. Not to mention he was Jim's brother-in-law. And now here was his younger counterpart. How similar were their histories? Jim hadn't even thought to ask Sarek about Sybok.

He only realized he was staring again when Sybok looked straight at him. "Do you need me, sir?" he asked politely.

"Not right now," Jim replied, thinking quickly. What should he tell him?

But he couldn't make this decision on his own. "Excuse me," he told Sybok, and to T'Korin, he said, "I enjoyed talking with you. Feel better soon."

"That is my intention," she replied. He grinned, then turned around and hurried out of the room before she could see the smile slip off his face.

He immediately headed for the lobby, and the quiet corner where the public computer terminals were. He quickly keyed in the code to Spock's office at the HSA, where he should be right now, and drummed his fingers against the desk while he waited for the computers to connect. 

When Spock's face did appear on the screen, Jim didn't even bother with the pleasantries. "Sybok's here," he said abruptly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'here'?" he asked. "And how did you come by this information?"

"Sarek told me there was an inoculation for humans for that illness, so I came to get it -- at the hospital closest to Sarek's office. I was visiting with T'Korin, Kopek's granddaughter, when I saw him. He's a healer here, Spock."

The eyebrow came down, but Spock looked grave. "And what do you desire to do with this information?"

Jim bit his lip. "I don't know," he admitted. "He hasn't done anything to us yet, not this him. But I don't want to give him the chance to, either. I don't know what his life has been like here."

"Then the logical course of action would be to ask him, or someone who knows him."

"I don't think we should ask him yet, not directly. He'd want to know how we know him, and why we care what his life has been like, and it'd be hard to answer that without explaining all about our own universe."

"Do you not wish to tell him?"

Jim shrugged. "He's your brother. Shouldn't you be the one to decide that? What you're willing to have him know?"

"He is not my brother," Spock corrected. "He is possibly the man my brother could have been in his younger years, but I could not know for sure; until Sybok implemented his plan to hijack the _Enterprise_ , I had not seen him since he was sixteen. I do not know what he had been doing with himself up until our final meeting."

"Sarek, then," Jim said. "Would you like to ask him, or do you want me to?"

Spock tilted his head, considering it. "I shall ask him," he said finally. "It would be a reasonable query. Sarek would think nothing of it should I want to know what became of the brother I had once had."

Jim nodded. "And about Sybok himself? Do you want him to know about us?"

Spock took longer to answer this one. "I do not know," he said slowly, "but I am inclined towards...yes. I do wish to know him, to have him know us. I would prefer he avoid the fate he found in our universe."

"Yeah," Jim said. For many reasons, it would be better if Sybok could be deterred from the path Jim remembered.

"What do you think about inviting him to dinner?" Spock asked.

A smile pulled at Jim's lips. "Don't want to wait to hear what Sarek has to say?"

"I do not believe it will make a significant difference," Spock replied. "He is respectable enough right now to be a healer. I would like to know the circumstances of his life, and I would prefer to know prior to our meeting with him, but..."

He looked hesitant, but Jim thought he understood. "You'd like a chance to build some sort of relationship with your brother, even if he's not exactly your brother," he finished, and Spock nodded. "You want me to invite him?"

"Yes, if you're already there. Though an invitation for tomorrow would also allow me to time to speak with Sarek."

Jim nodded. "Will do," he said. Then, with that taken care of, he asked, "How's work going?"

"Adequately," Spock replied, and tilted his head. 

Jim grinned. "Hey, let me have my small talk with someone who will put up with it," he said. 

"Are you certain you are not presuming?"

"Yep." Spock's eyebrow lifted again, and Jim laughed. "You'll listen to anything I say, won't you? Go on, go back to work. I should go talk to Sybok, and get back to work of my own."

Spock nodded. "I will see you this evening, then," he said. Jim smiled at him and confirmed it, then signed off.

He went back to the children's ward, where Sybok was now at the far end of the room. Jim hovered just to the inside of the doorway, trying to think of the best way to invite him without having to go into the whole alternate timeline thing right away. But he didn't have very long to think about it, because Sybok finished with the last child soon and turned to look directly at Jim. Jim waited as he approached.

"There is something I can do for you now?" he asked dryly.

Jim smiled a little uneasily. "You are Sybok, son of Sarek, right?"

Sybok inclined his head, both eyebrows raised with about as much surprise as a Vulcan showed. Did this mean Sybok controlled his emotions more? "I am, but I do not recall meeting you."

"We haven't. I'm Dr. James Kirk. I've been doing some work with your father, and I met your brother. I didn't realize you were on Ha-kel, though."

"I only recently arrived." He looked at Jim with narrowed eyes. "I do not believe my father and brother would be particularly inclined to discuss me," he said. 

"It's complicated," Jim replied. "And actually, I was wondering if you'd be willing to come to dinner with my bondmate and me tomorrow. My bondmate...is also familiar with your father and brother."

Sybok nodded slowly. "I am curious, Dr. Kirk," he said, and then favored Jim with a slow smile. "You're not one of the Federation aid workers?"

Okay, he was at least willing to smile. "I'm helping, of course," Jim replied, "but no, I'm primarily here because my bondmate is Vulcan and he wanted to be here. Can we count on seeing you tomorrow?"

"Yes," Sybok replied. "As I said, I am curious. I believe I'm looking forward to meeting your bondmate."

They confirmed a time and the directions, then Jim let Sybok get back to his rounds. He still had plenty of things to do himself.

When Spock arrived home that night, Jim was already there. He'd come home for lunch, and then again for good in the late afternoon, needing a nap before he could think of dinner and a serious discussion. He was still tired, though, when Spock walked in the door, and waited for Spock to come meet him on the sofa before giving him a quick peck in greeting.

"Sybok's willing to come have dinner," Jim said, letting his head fall back against the cushions as Spock put away his work things. "He's curious, though."

"As any Vulcan would be," Spock replied. "I have spoken with Sarek. Sybok's history in this universe seems to parallel his history in our own, at least as far as leaving Vulcan. After that, Sarek knows no more about what Sybok has done than I do. He had not realized Sybok was on the planet."

Jim tapped his fingers against his lips in thought. "You think he came here to help?"

"That would be logical," Spock said. "Sybok, despite his stance on emotion, is also a child of Vulcan. He would want to be a part of our people's rebuilding as well."

Spock prepared dinner, though Jim found himself just toying with half of it, not hungry. When Spock looked at him, he just shrugged and offered a wry smile.

"Still tired," he said. And he was. His sleep last night had not been especially restful, and while the nap helped, he still felt somewhat groggy.

He did go to bed early that night, but this time he didn't dream, and he was grateful for it.

\--

Sybok was prompt, arriving exactly at their agreed meeting time. Jim greeted him and drew him inside, and Sybok followed him to the living room equivalent, where Spock waited.

"Healer Sybok, this is my bondmate," Jim said, as Sybok raised his hand in the ta'al and Spock mirrored the gesture. "Spock."

Sybok frowned. "No family name?" he asked, and then looked closer. "You are familiar to me, but I cannot recall meeting you."

Jim could see the amusement in Spock's eyes, and wondered if Sybok could as well. "The question of whether we have met has a complicated answer," Spock said gravely, though his tone belied the twinkle in his eyes. He was having fun with this. "I am, in fact, Spock, son of Sarek, of the house of Surak."

"And my brother, I presume? But my brother is younger than I."

Spock nodded. "He is. And I am only your brother in a sense. Jim and I are not from this universe. We arrived here by the same means Nero did."

"Can I get you anything, Sybok?" Jim asked, when it seemed Sybok would not say anything. "A glass of water? Something else?"

"A glass of water would be appreciated," Sybok replied. He lowered himself into a straight-backed chair at Spock's gesture, sitting as if his spine had fused to the back. Jim went to get the water, and when he returned and handed his guest the glass, Sybok and Spock were both still in the same positions.

"I have many questions," Sybok finally said, breaking the silence, "but I do not know what to ask first. Shall we start with Nero? You sound like you know more of him than I do."

Jim let Spock tell the story, since Spock had it pretty much down pat by now, and he was the one Sybok kept most of his attention on anyway. Well, it probably wasn't every day that someone several times your age claimed to be your younger brother.

"And my counterpart, in your universe?" Sybok asked calmly when Spock had finished. "What happened to me?"

Jim and Spock exchanged a glance. "We would prefer not to tell anyone their fates," Jim said. "This is a different universe, and things have already changed so much."

Spock nodded. "We do not desire to be prophets," he said. "It is still our intention to help, and perhaps offer what general knowledge will be of use, but we do not want to influence the path of anyone's life."

"Beyond what advice any friend might offer," Jim added. They had influenced their younger counterparts, after all, but as little as they could. 

"I understand," Sybok said, but his eyes were unreadable.

"We'd like to know more about you, though," Jim said, watching him. He did seem very Vulcan -- certainly far more restrained than the Sybok Jim had first met, whose face had been far more open. Had Sybok grown into his expressiveness? Spock never had said very much about what Sybok had been like before his exile.

_Much like this,_ Spock said within their bond, catching Jim's thought. _He did have his initial training in Surakian principles. While he found emotions to be worthwhile, and did not hesitate to display them when he thought it necessary or...enjoyable...he would often fall back on his initial training. I believe it was his exile from Vulcan, and the decades he spent away from his people, that led him to both his quest and the expressiveness you noted._

Jim didn't nod, but he did send an impression of understanding back at Spock.

He appreciated knowing that Sybok was not so very different here. Hopefully it would be easier to subtly steer him away from the path that had led to his death.

"What do you wish to know?"

Jim shrugged. "You're a healer, right? Why did you decide to do that? Why come to Ha-kel?"

Sybok smiled. "More precisely, I am a doctor," he said, "trained by the Federation. I know enough Vulcan-specific medicine to qualify as a Vulcan healer, but I did not learn that on the homeworld, considering by that time I would not have been accepted as a student. I learned on the Vulcanis Lunar Colony.

"As for why I became a doctor, and why I came to Ha-kel, the answers are much the same." He leaned forward, something in his eyes starting to gleam. "My people may have cast me out for my beliefs, but I am still a Vulcan. I wish to serve my people in the manner best suited to me. And Spock, Dr. Kirk, I believe my people are stagnating -- or were, before Nero's incursion. Fewer and fewer of the Federation’s artists came from Vulcan, and it has been growing harder to live as one would like, regardless of how much that life adheres to principles of pure logic. Scientific achievements are not everything. Neither is logic. As important as I do agree it is for keeping us from being savages, a life lived by logic alone is sterile. There must be more to existence than being a walking computer."

He sat back in his chair again, but Jim could still see the passion bright in his eyes. "I have studied the medicine of the body, because I do believe living things _are_ of the body, and we should not forget it, nor denigrate its importance. But my primary interest and training is the medicine of the mind and the soul. I came to Ha-kel because it is my hope that in the wake of this terrible tragedy, I can help my people wake up and lead fuller lives."

Spock tilted his head. "Fascinating," he said. "And certainly a worthy goal. That pure logic is ultimately sterile is a conclusion I came to myself, after much time and difficulty, and I believe my life has been the better for that revelation. However," he warned, "Sybok, my brother. Please keep in mind the principles of infinite diversity in infinite combinations."

Sybok, whose face had brightened at Spock's initial words, shut down again. "Vulcans do not celebrate IDIC as they should," he argued hotly. "That is why I was exiled. If we properly embraced that as our core tenet, I would never have had to leave my home."

"All of us have now had to leave our home," Spock reminded him. "You are no longer alone in your exile; every Vulcan shares it. And Sybok, although our people do not celebrate IDIC as they should does not mean you should cease to do so. While I do believe in many ways we would benefit by becoming more open to our emotions, there are those of us for whom such openness would be an unbearable burden. The Kolinahru have as much right to the way they would live their lives as do the V'tosh Ka'tur."

Sybok eyed him, then, after a moment, grinned. "I cannot argue with that," he said. "Already it is a greater victory than I had foreseen to hear my brother speaking this way to me, my brother who had for so long endeavored to be more Vulcan than Vulcan. I dreaded hearing you would become Kolinahru yourself."

"I did attempt it," Spock said ruefully. "It was due to my failure, and an experience I had not long after it, that I became more open to my own emotions. My hope, and one Jim shares, is that my younger self, the one who is truly your brother, can find peace with himself without attempting to cut part of him out."

Jim nodded. "Kolinahr is all right for some," he allowed, "but most Vulcans do not, actually, purge all of their emotions. Why not, if there's no value to them? Sybok, I also hope that Vulcans, including Spock's younger counterpart, learn to see that value."

"I am...very gratified to hear both of you say so," Sybok replied. "My own progress has been slow."

"Perhaps the one area in which Vulcans are slow learners," Jim said, and smiled when both the Vulcans raised an eyebrow at him.

Well, Sybok might be an ally in Jim's own quest to get the Vulcans to actually process their grief rather than just ignoring it. Still, Jim thought, watching Sybok and Spock begin a lighter conversation, he would be an ally to keep an eye on. Jim was not going to forget what the Sybok of his own universe had done.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim stood in the shade of the ancient rock-carved buildings of Shi'Kahr, watching the people pass by. The crowd was almost uniformly Vulcan, but occasionally he could see a few humans, some Tellarites and Andorians. Very few, though.

The day was ridiculously hot, an energy-sapping dry heat Jim could feel even in the shade. But even then, it was not quite as oppressive as the more humid air of Ha-kel. Which was where Jim should be. Something niggled in his mind, though he also felt strangely foggy.

This was Vulcan. Jim looked up and could see the slight blue curved shine of T'Khut, and off in the distance were the L-Langon Mountains, with the peak of Mount Seleya rising high above the range and the city. Over to his left rested the smooth curved stone of the Vulcan Science Academy, and at the opposite end of the city, the spaceport.

All of this had been destroyed a year ago, yet Jim still stood on dusty red streets, surrounded by golden buildings.

Surely he was not asleep now. He hadn't even gone to bed yet. He'd been reading engineering journals when it seemed he'd only blinked and found himself on Vulcan.

Jim joined the throng on the streets, not sure what else he could do. He passed by the city's many parks, occasionally walking through one to refresh himself by a misty fountain, but eventually he reached his destination -- the main library of Shi'Kahr.

Jim had not been in this building for many years, but it hadn't changed. The floor, made of a golden rock that matched most of the buildings, was still treated somehow to make it just slightly soft and spongy, enough to absorb the sound of his and everyone else's footfalls. But there were still the small carrels, the open computer consoles, and far back in the distance, where patrons were only allowed to go with permission from the librarians, one of Vulcan's collections of ancient paper books.

Jim found an empty carrel and closed the door for privacy. The keyboard was in Vulcan, but his was sufficient for the task. He typed in a few commands and seconds later had the stardate on his screen.

2259\. Exactly the year it should be, though Vulcan should have been dead a year.

But this -- this was an alternate universe of some sort, he realized now. It just didn't feel the same as his own. But how could he have gotten here? He'd just been _reading_.  
He drummed his fingers on the desk. Maybe the first step would be finding out what was different about this universe, apart from Vulcan's current existence. Finding out what had happened, or not happened, could be useful. A few more keystrokes had him pulling up a recent timeline of significant events on Vulcan.

A brief scan, though, left him feeling even more confused than before. He didn't recognize any of these events, and there was no mention of the Federation.

On a hunch, he pulled up specifically bio-medical achievements and scanned back three decades. Spock's conception and birth should be on this list -- he was the first Vulcan hybrid, his conception and his mother's pregnancy eased with genetic engineering.

But there was no mention of Spock.

He pulled up birth records, but there was no mention of Spock there either. He even looked through marriage records, but Sarek was listed as being bonded to a T'Jen, not to Amanda Grayson.

Whatever had changed this universe, it had prevented Spock's birth. This was a universe without Spock. Jim almost couldn’t grasp the idea, and had to put it from his mind to avoid the fear he could feel even now bubbling in his stomach. This was wrong, and he had to find a way out.

How could he have _gotten_ here?

He went back to the main timeline and scanned backwards, line by line, determined to find the turning point, if he could. Eventually he found it, just a brief mention -- Terra's invitation to join the brand new United Federation of Planets it was forming with the Andorians and the Tellarites, and Vulcan's polite but firm decline. Immediately afterwards was the mention of a trading treaty, but it seemed that was how far the relationship between the Federation and Vulcan extended. Trade.

Jim closed down his search and headed back outside, feeling chilled. Eridani was as hot as it'd been before, but it no longer seemed to touch Jim the way it had.

How had he gotten into this universe? And more importantly, how could he get home?

He started walking again, though this time without a destination in mind. He ended up in one of the parks he'd stopped by earlier, letting the mist from the fountain in the center cool him. He wasn't the only one to have that idea -- two more humans in the park were doing the same thing. Probably merchants.

He was just closing his eyes to savor the cool water, deliberately not thinking of anything but how refreshing it was, when the ground started shaking beneath him. Quakes were rarer on Vulcan than Earth, and rarer still in Shi'Kahr, several thousand miles away from Vulcan's few fault lines. Jim opened his eyes, grabbing onto the nearest bench, and happened to look up. There was a small but noticeable blot in front of Eridani.

One moment he had shaded his eyes to try to see the blot better, and the next minute he opened his eyes to find himself back in his chair, in his house, his mind once more filled with Spock. His limbs flailed a bit in surprise as he shot straight up, dumping the journal he'd been reading from his lap to the floor.

Spock had been working on his computer, and turned around at Jim's mental spike of alarm. "Jim?" he asked, standing up and moving forward. "Are you well?"

Jim took in a deep breath and raised his hand to his forehead -- he was sweating, just as if he'd been out in the sun. Except it was night. He took his reading glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Did you feel anything?" he demanded.

Spock stopped just a few feet away, peering at him with concern. "What should I have felt?"

Jim let himself slump against the chair, perching on its arm. "Oh, you'd know. I wasn't asleep, was I? I don't think I fell asleep."

"You did not," Spock confirmed. "I am familiar with your mind in sleep. You took a nap this afternoon but have been awake for four point two hours."

"That's what I thought." He crossed his arms and looked away. "Spock, what would you say if I told you I thought I just slipped into another universe?"

The concern emanating along their bond increased. "I would question how that could be possible," Spock replied. "You went nowhere, Jim."

"Yeah, I know," he said, "except I _did_. It was just like a few nights ago, when I felt like I woke up and Shi'masu was gone. I thought it was a dream, but what if it wasn't?"

"There still remains the question of how," Spock pointed out.

Jim shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "But I know what it feels like to be in another universe, Spock, and I just was. I didn't dream it. I was in another universe for a few hours, and then I was here."

The concern Jim felt from Spock's mind shifted to include a more immediate worry. "We will look into this," he said. "We will find out how it can be possible."

"And how it can be stopped," Jim added.

He did not want it to happen again.

\--

But it did happen again. The next time occurred during the day, when Jim was actually at work. One minute he was explaining some quirks of twenty-fourth century replicators to a group of Vulcans, and then he blinked and

He woke up in what looked like an infirmary. He rubbed his eyes and looked closer -- it actually looked like Sickbay on the _Enterprise_ -A. But he couldn't be back on the _Enterprise_ -A.

His head felt fuzzy. It was hard to think.

"Finally awake, are you?" someone said, but he couldn't possibly be awake, because that was Bones's voice. But Bones was dead.

The speaker stepped forward, and Jim could see it was indeed Leonard McCoy, though younger than Jim had ever seen him. "Can you tell me your name and the stardate?"

Jim eyed him. "I don't know the stardate. 2258? That was what Nero--"

Nero.

"And your name, sir?" McCoy asked again. "I couldn't tell why you were unconscious. There's no sign of physical trauma. Do you know who you are and where you are?"

"I think I'm back in time," Jim said dryly. "That's what Nero said, when he caught us. And I'm not sure I should tell you my name. Do you know anything about Nero?"

McCoy frowned. "He destroyed a bunch of our ships," he said. "Captain Pike was speaking to him when he suddenly cut the connection and went after a smaller ship. We followed just in time to see Nero's ship consumed by a black hole we barely escaped ourselves. Then we got a distress call from the station on Delta Vega, where the officers there said you randomly showed up and collapsed."

Jim barely heard the tale end of McCoy's explanation. "That other ship?" he asked urgently. "The smaller one that lured Nero off? Do you know what happened to it?"

McCoy looked uncomfortable. "Someone you know?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "It collided with Nero's ship. We don't think the pilot made it."

Jim looked straight ahead, not really seeing anything.

It couldn't be. He would have felt it. He would have known the minute he woke up. When Spock had died before, he'd felt it happen, and continued to feel his absence until the reestablishment of their bond after the return of Spock's memories.

Spock couldn't be dead.

Jim heard the whirr of McCoy's medical tricorder in the background, but it must not have had readings too dire, because Bones left him alone after that. He would have been glad, because he didn't feel like making conversation, but he couldn't feel glad. He couldn't feel anything.

Was that why his head seemed so fuzzy? Did the breaking of the bond damage his brain this time?

Probably not. McCoy's scanner would have caught it.

But...it was wrong. He didn't think it was just his grief speaking, but this whole situation felt -- off.

Though he felt tired, he didn't sleep. He couldn't. Nurses stopped by -- including Christine Chapel, in another surreal moment -- asking if he wanted anything to eat, but he turned them down each time. He couldn't imagine eating.

Maybe he did sleep later, but if he did, it wasn't restful. He probably just tuned out, and when he regained awareness, it was to see two other people standing at his bedside.

One of them was human, but Jim's eyes skipped over him immediately to rest on his companion. His heart started thumping madly even as his mind stretched out, reaching -- and meeting nothing.

It was Spock. Spock, but too young; like McCoy, younger than Jim had ever seen him.

He was beautiful. He was perfect.

He was not Jim's Spock.

Jim met Spock's calm, considering gaze, and forced himself to look away. This was possibly the cruelest thing the universe had ever done to him. To distract himself, he focused on the other officer, and wouldn't let his eyes drift back to Spock.

"I'm Captain Christopher Pike," the officer said, and Jim belatedly did recognize him as Chris Pike. "This is my first officer, Commander Spock. You're on the Federation starship _Enterprise_. Can you tell us how you came to be on Delta Vega?"

Jim remembered now, for all the good it did him. "We came through the black hole," he said, and nearly winced at the dullness in his voice, but he couldn't muster up more energy. "Nero caught us. He said we came back in time, and were in an alternate universe now, one he created with the destruction of the _Kelvin_. In our universe, a supernova destroyed Romulus, and Nero blamed us, and Vulcan, for not doing enough to stop it. So he claimed revenge against Vulcan, and against us. He marooned me on Delta Vega to watch, and kept...my companion...on board the _Narada_. I guess my, my friend--" he swallowed around a lump in his throat, but it didn't dissipate, and he forced himself to continue, "--got back to our ship, and decided to take care of Nero himself."

"And the black hole?"

That was Spock. Jim still couldn't look at him.

"Technology from the future, and that's all you need to know. It should be gone now anyway, with the _Jellyfish_."

With Spock.

Oh God.

"How is Vulcan?" Jim asked, realizing -- Spock would have taken the _Jellyfish_ before Nero could use the red matter.

"Recovering from earthquakes caused by the drill," Spock said.

Jim let out a breath. Vulcan was still there. Thirteen billion people were still alive -- and his Spock was dead.

"You realize we have no way of getting you back to your own universe," Pike said, almost gently.

Jim shrugged, with almost monumental effort.

It didn't matter. The other universe without Spock, this universe without Spock -- he was still without Spock.

He couldn't help it -- he looked at this younger Spock again, and this time couldn't look away.

Maybe it was just as well. At least here he was in a universe where Spock still existed, even if he wasn't Jim's.

Spock returned his stare, and Jim could practically see his mind racing with questions. "Will you tell us your name?" he asked quietly. "I do not believe doing so will adversely affect the timestream. This universe has already split off from your own and now has its own trajectory. It is not the equivalent of simply being back in time."

Why not? "James Kirk," he said. He noticed their eyes go wide, but didn't find himself to be particularly curious, even when the two of them drew away to have a quiet conference by themselves. Finally Pike moved to a wall comm, and Spock returned to his bedside.

"And your companion?" he asked, as Pike returned as well.

Jim snorted softly. "Alternate reality, right?" he said. "No harm...." He closed his eyes, then opened them again. "It was Spock," he said. "My Spock. And now here you are, so young." His hand twitched, wanting to reach out, but he stopped himself.

Spock and Pike exchanged quick glances. "You were friends, you and this other Spock?" the young one asked, voice soft.

"Best of," Jim said. "To be without him is..." He trailed off, shook his head.

It was _wrong_. Spock would quote him the needs of the many once again, but it helped no more now than it had after Khan.

The doors to Sickbay opened, and an already surreal situation got even stranger, because Jim's own younger self walked through the doors. "You wanted me here, sir?" Kirk asked Pike. He shot a curious look at Jim, then looked again, longer. He moved closer without listening for Pike's reply first.

"Well, that's interesting," Pike said, but Jim didn't manage to ask why because

He blinked and he stood once again in front of a dismantled replicator, three Vulcans looking at him.

"Dr. Kirk?" one asked, T'Bar. "Are you well?"

"I don't know," he replied. His voice sounded very distant in his ears. "I think we should...continue this another time."

Dizziness and nausea began fighting for his attention, and he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Dr. Kirk, do you require medical attention?" T'Bar asked.

Jim didn't know if he needed it, but he knew he didn't want it, so he flapped a hand. "Spock," he muttered.

His head wasn't fuzzy anymore, and he could clearly feel his bond with Spock, a bond that deepened slightly as Jim's strident relief and dissipating despair caught Spock's attention. He heard T'Bar move to the nearest computer console and put in a call, heard Spock's voice answer. He didn't have to pay attention to their conversation to know that Spock was on his way.

The other two Vulcans left, but T'Bar remained with him until Spock arrived. "I wish you a speedy recovery," she told Jim, sort of awkwardly. Then she left him alone with his bondmate, who knelt in front of him.

"Jim?" Spock asked, reaching forward to take his hands. "What is wrong?"

Jim didn't answer. He couldn't yet. He just fell forward until he was caught in Spock's arms, his hands fisting in the fabric of Spock's robes, his face buried in Spock's neck. He inhaled and took in Spock's dry, spicy, Vulcany smell.

"It happened again," he told Spock's collarbone. Spock's hands started rubbing up and down his back. "I was here, and then I was somewhere else. Oh God, Spock. It was like when we first arrived in this universe, but something was different and you were dead. Nero sent me to Delta Vega instead and you sacrificed your life to destroy him and the _Narada_. Vulcan was still there, but you were gone."

Spock continued his soothing motions, and Jim lifted his face until he could rest his chin on Spock's shoulder, taking in deep breaths. Finally Jim pulled back, and shifted so he was sitting on the floor in between Spock's spread legs, his own legs tangled with one of Spock's.

"It was like I was really there," he said as Spock watched him. "Like I was really living it. In the others, I knew something was wrong. I knew that wasn't how the universe was. But this time I didn't. I just knew it was wrong."

"Do you know what made the difference?"

Jim shook his head. "It's all been so different. It's like I'm getting dropped into alternate universes for a few hours before snapping back here. How can that be possible? I'm not even doing anything."

He shifted away from Spock, grabbing onto the table to pull himself up so he could start pacing, even as his joints protested from sitting on the floor in such an awkward position. Spock stood as well.

"What experiences have we had with alternate universes?" he asked, half to himself and half to Spock. "There was coming here, of course. The Nexus. The Terran Empire."

"Lazarus and the anti-universe," Spock offered. "The Tholians. And the one formed by McCoy's jump back through the Guardian of Forever."

Jim paused. "And how we first figured out I'm sensitive to temporal and universal changes," he added. "When the Borg went back in time and took over Earth until Picard fixed it. You know, these...these universal shifts remind me the most of our experiences with time travel. Like someone is trying to go back in time to change things, but the changes aren't lasting very long and events snap back to how they really were."

"Time travel," Spock mused. "We have discovered many different means of doing so. Have you been able to determine a pattern in the changes thus far?"

"You mean indications of what this person is trying to change?" Jim crossed his arms. "Not yet, no. Or how he's doing it, and why it's not lasting."

Spock inclined his head. "I am confident we will soon understand the situation," he said. "However, you have been through a trying experience and were feeling ill when I first arrived. I believe it would benefit us to return to our home."

Jim shot him an irritated look. It was easy for Spock to counsel rest -- he wasn't the one going through these strange shifts. Just as easy to say they would figure it out later. "I don't need rest," he said. "I'm feeling much better. I want to know what's going on."

"We do not yet have enough data to make a determination," Spock pointed out. "Jim, I still feel your turmoil. Allow yourself to calm down."

Jim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew Spock was just looking out for him, but right now he felt mostly annoyed. He didn't want to go through another shift, but that might be the only way to get more data.

But his stomach still roiled with leftover nausea, and his heart still pumped adrenaline. He should calm down. "Fine," he said. "I'll go home and rest. But you're coming with me, mister. If I have to sit around and do nothing for awhile, then so do you."

Spock tilted his head. "I had every intention of accompanying you," he said. "Though perhaps I was unclear on our planned activities once we arrived at our residence. I do not believe sitting around and doing nothing, as you say, will be of great benefit for you now."

Jim looked closer at Spock's expression, lit with the tiniest bit of teasing mischief, and laughed. The nausea started to dissipate. "Fine," he said again, heaving an exaggerated sigh, though this time in a much better mood. "We can go home and...not rest."

It was just as well -- for several hours, real or not, Jim had thought Spock was dead. He could use some reconnection with his bondmate, and Spock probably knew it.

\--

Jim was surprised that night by an incoming call -- few people had called them at their home so far -- and surprised further to see it was the younger Spock's comm-code. Jim's Spock, who had been working at his desk nearby, closed down his computer and headed for their bedroom when Jim gave him a look, and when the door had shut behind him, Jim accepted the call.

"Hello, Spock," Jim said when Spock's face appeared on the screen. Jim studied him carefully -- this was the first time they had spoken in real time since Spock had called bringing news of the crew’s final encounter with this universe’s Khan Noonien Singh. Jim’s Spock had told him immediately when the younger had called from the _Enterprise_ to ask about Khan, and Jim hadn’t been able to relax until he’d seen the younger Spock for himself.

Even hearing that Jim’s own younger counterpart had died and been miraculously resurrected had not dented Jim’s relief. His heart had, however, skipped at hearing _how_ the younger Kirk had sacrificed himself. Jim's Spock was not the only one who had taken the mirroring of their universes' encounters with Khan hard.

But this younger Spock looked well, now. Certainly calmer than he had those weeks ago, when Jim had seen the slight tremble in his limbs and the forced passivity of his face as he described the glass separating him from his dying captain. Jim let out a breath, and felt himself calm as well.

"Good evening, Jim," Spock replied. "I hope this is not an inconvenient time. I have been considering something, and I thought I might take the opportunity to solicit your advice."

Jim raised an eyebrow in a conscious approximation of Spock's, then let it fall. "Of course, Spock," he said. "Go ahead, and I'll see what I can do."

Spock hesitated. "It is an emotional matter," he hedged.

Jim nodded. "It usually is, when you want my advice," he said. "It's fine. Lay it on me."

The familiar exasperated amusement entered Spock's eyes at the colloquialism. "I do not understand your fascination with imprecise idiom," he said, "but I will proceed. Forgive me if this is an impertinence, but have you ever been married, or entered into a similar long-term relationship?"

Jim inhaled sharply. "Yes," he said, after a moment. "I would prefer not to tell you who, but yes. I've been married." I'm still married, he didn't say.

"Did you enter into this arrangement out of love?"

Jim narrowed his eyes. Spock wanted love advice? God, please don't let him be asking how to propose to Uhura, he thought suddenly. But he replied, "Yes. I did marry for love."

Only Spock's eyes gave away his discomfort with the topic, but he pressed on. "You are aware of my relationship with Lieutenant Uhura, are you not?" And when Jim nodded, he continued, "When I was a child, I once asked my father why he married my mother. I had been tormented throughout my youth for my half-human heritage, and I wished to know why my father married a human rather than another Vulcan.

"At the time, my father told me his decision had been made out of logic. He said that as the Ambassador to Earth, marrying an Earth woman was logical."

That sounded like Sarek, the younger Sarek who had not quite known how to appreciate what he had. Jim was sure that Amanda, through the marital bond she shared with Sarek, had known of his love for her, but Jim's Spock hadn't known for sure his father loved his mother, and loved him, until after Sarek's death.

"Because of this answer," Spock went on, "I determined that logic should be how I made my own eventual choice of a wife. I had been bonded to T'Pring as a child, but did not feel we were particularly suited. She would be acceptable if I could not find someone with whom I shared a greater affinity, but I...hoped to find someone else. My observations of my parents' marriage included mutual affection and contentment with each other's company and an easy coexistence. If logic could result in such a marriage, I thought, then that would be satisfactory for my own life."

Jim could see where this was going, and his suspicions were confirmed when Spock said, "I chose Lieutenant Uhura out of logic. She is clever and intelligent. She is efficient in her work. I find her aesthetically pleasing. She understood my Vulcan nature, and was willing to accept my inability to be emotionally expressive as human men might be. She was a logical choice for relationship partner, once I was no longer the instructor of a class she attended."

"But?" Jim prompted.

Spock's discomfort grew enough for a corner of his mouth to twitch down. "But," he agreed, "my father later informed me, after the death of my mother, that my initial impression of his marriage was based on a lie. He told me he married my mother not out of logic, but out of love."

Good for you, Sarek, Jim thought, hiding a smile.

"All right," Jim said, once Spock had fallen silent. "I'm guessing that's the backstory. What, exactly, do you need advice about?"

"Put simply, I wish to know if a satisfying, successful relationship is more likely to be based on logic, or love," Spock said. He was probably trying to be confident, but his question came out almost tentative.

Jim sighed. "You know, that's actually a very difficult question. And a very subjective one."

Spock nodded. "I realize that," he said. "I still, however, wish your advice on the subject, if you feel able and willing to give it to me."

What _should_ he tell Spock? That he even asked the question was a good sign about his willingness to accept "love" as the answer, and therefore his willingness to accept emotion. But how long would that willingness last? It would break Spock's heart, to say nothing of his partner's, if he was initially willing to be in love only for the strength of his emotions to scare him off later.

All he could really do, though, was offer the best advice he could, and trust Spock to handle it.

"From my own experience," he said, "I can tell you that I would never have been satisfied with a partner who didn't love me fully as much as I loved them. But for you, I think it depends on what you're really looking for. If what you want is harmonious coexistence, then maybe logic is your best bet. But if what you want is someone who will enrich your life beyond all telling..." He closed his eyes, trying to put his love for Spock into words.

"Love, at least the way I see it and experience it," he began again, "can be terrifying. No one has a greater capacity to hurt you than someone you love. And what happens when your partner dies--" He swallowed. Thanks to his most recent universe shift, the memory of existence without his other half was closer than all the decades ago and Khan's revenge. Not that he would ever forget Khan's revenge, especially not now. "It's devastating. And something that will mark you forever.

"But," he said, raising a finger when Spock started to look subtly discouraged, "that doesn't mean I regret any of it. My husband has caused me a lot of pain in a lot of different ways, but he also gave me so much joy. And in a way, he’s even given me _me_. I've changed a lot since meeting him, in ways I really think are for the better. And that's part of what I think love is, Spock -- someone who is willing and able to help you become the kind of person you want to be. Someone who will challenge you when you need it, but who will also support you when you need it.

"Humans like to say things like how they can't live without this person, that kind of romantic hyperbole. You think it's illogical, right?" He grinned when Spock nodded. "It is hyperbole, but it's also true, in a way. It's not so much that I literally can't live without my husband -- I know for a fact that I can, as much as I don't like having to do so." Those months after Khan without Spock's presence in his mind -- he had wanted to follow Spock in the moment of his death, and the immediate aftermath, but that impulse had faded. He knew he could live without Spock. The actual doing so was hard, though. "But I can't live the same life without them, the life I most want. There are so many ways that just knowing my husband, and having him in my life, has made my life so much better.

Spock had angled his head away when Jim mentioned living without his husband, but now he met Jim’s eyes again, his face intent.

"Relationships, especially marriage, are all about compromise. You don't go into a relationship expecting to change someone, or even to change yourself, but you both have to be _willing_ to change, in small ways and in big ways. I've changed some of my eating habits for my husband, but I've also changed my career path and where I've lived. It's been hard, but it's also been worth it -- he changed just as much for me. I think he also appreciated those changes, even when they were difficult. I think my husband, partially through his relationship with me, found a kind of peace that he had never before experienced. And it's an extraordinary thing, to be the cause of that, or even partially the cause."

Spock's eyes were wide. Maybe he hadn't expected a dissertation on love and relationships when he asked, Jim thought with mild amusement.

"Nyota," Spock began, and then paused, seeming to organize his thoughts. "Nyota has changed for me, I think. She was more exuberant in the beginning of our acquaintance. She eventually grew more subdued, and I attributed it to both greater maturity and an effort to make me more comfortable."

Jim nodded. That made sense, given what he knew of his universe's Uhura. His own, while perfectly capable of controlling herself, was rarely subdued. Exuberant was probably a good word for her. And she had never dated Spock.

"What do you think about that?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Spock admitted. "I do not believe I have changed similarly in response to…her." He paused, and Jim wondered what was going on behind those dark eyes. "I further do not know if she is comfortable with these changes -- if, as you say, they are making her more of the person she wants to be. But I do not feel that response to her."

Jim sat back in his chair. "You probably need to have a serious discussion, then," he said. "Talk about what you want for yourselves, for each other, for your relationship."

"And if I am not certain what I want?"

Jim shrugged. "Not everyone is," he said. "But I think you should at least decide if what you want is logic or love. And keep in mind that they're not mutually exclusive. It can be logical to pursue love, depending on your goals, and I'm sure love can evolve from a relationship initially based on logic."

"I...do not believe I love Nyota," Spock said, his voice low. "I care deeply for her, and I enjoy her companionship, but I do not feel she has enriched my life in the way you describe. I would regret her absence from my life, but I do not believe such an absence would make my life so much the poorer. I do not feel that she has made me more of the person I want to be, and after having engaged in a relationship with a duration of one point eight years, I do not believe these facts will change. Our relationship has been satisfactory in that she provides harmonious companionship, but..."

"But you want love," Jim finished for him, almost a question.

Spock closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he had a sort of wildness in them, like he was choosing to jump off a cliff. "Yes," he said, very softly. "What my father shared with my mother, and what you have described -- if that is love, I wish that for myself."

Jim smiled at him, feeling almost humbled to be allowed to be part of that decision. How lucky was he, to have helped two Spocks better understand their needs?

He forced himself to sober up, though. He gave this Spock what advice he could, but he had no way of knowing what would come of it. If this Spock would find someone who fulfilled him, or if he would arrive someday on Ha-kel, terrified of the strength of his feelings, seeking to undergo Kolinahr.

But that might never happen. Jim had to trust that Spock knew what he was doing. "You deserve it," he said, and softened again when he could see Spock's smile in his eyes, that beautifully familiar and distinctive look. Even now, being able to extract that look from Spock made him feel vaguely giddy.

"I believe I will schedule a conversation with Nyota," Spock said, the smile in his eyes fading. "I thank you, very much, for your advice."

"Anytime," Jim said sincerely. "I hope it goes well for you. For both of you."

Spock nodded, paused, and then said, somewhat awkwardly, "Jim...I grieve with thee."

Jim smiled at him, just as awkwardly. He had implied his husband was dead, even if he'd not told a single lie. He didn't want this Spock to know he was married to his older counterpart, not yet, especially not when this Spock was already enough in turmoil about love to have come to Jim about it.

It was awkward all the same. "Thank you," he said, in appreciation of the spirit of Spock's offering.

Spock raised his hand in the ta'al, looking easier. Jim reciprocated the gesture, and then the screen went dark.

Jim let out an almost explosive sigh. That had been difficult, and disturbingly close to interference. Or maybe it was interference. But how could he have turned Spock away? 

He shook his head, and went to find his own Spock. The older Vulcan was engaging in the incredible indulgence of reading in bed when Jim moved into the room, but he put aside his padd with no reluctance when Jim crawled on the bed and laid his head on Spock's stomach. Long fingers started carding through his hair and he nuzzled into Spock's belly with another sigh, this time one of contentment.

"All is well with my younger self?"

"I assume so. He was actually calling to ask me about love."

Jim didn't have to look up to know Spock was raising an eyebrow. "You were right about his relationship with Uhura," Jim went on, referring to a conversation from nearly a year ago, one that stuck out in Jim's memory because of Spock's reassurance that the younger Vulcan's relationship with Uhura was not likely to be one of great depth. Maybe it made Jim a bad person to be reassured by that, but he didn't really care.

He would have gotten over it if the younger Spock had really loved Uhura, and she made him actually happy.

Probably.

"He basically wanted to know if love is worth it. I described what it was like to love you, without actually saying I loved you, and he seemed to decide it was indeed worth it." He shifted his face until he could look up at Spock with what he knew was an unabashedly affectionate expression on his face.

"Jim..." Spock said, then shook his head. "I do not know whether I should be pleased or exasperated," he scolded mildly. His fingers paused in Jim's hair. "We agreed not to interfere." But his face softened when Jim kept beaming at him.

"I don't know if it was interference," Jim said. "He obviously really needed to ask someone, or he would never have brought it up." He nudged his head upward slightly, and Spock's fingers resumed their movements.

"Yes, and you would have given the best advice you had available," Spock agreed. His trust thrummed through their bond.

Jim lifted his head, finally dislodging Spock's hand, then scooted upward on the bed until he and Spock were face-to-face. He brushed the first two fingers of his hand against Spock's, then leaned forward to kiss him in the human way as well. "I love you," he said. He didn't say it often -- he didn't have to, not with the bond between them -- but he felt the need to say it now. "With all of me, I love you."

Spock's eyes were that warm liquid chocolate color they turned when he was particularly happy. "I cherish thee," he said in reply. He placed careful kisses along Jim's meld points, and Jim settled against him easily, tilting his head to give Spock better access.

He needed Spock in his life. Anything else was simply...wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim hadn't quite forgotten Sybok in the excitement about skipping universes, but he had not expected Sybok to have progressed very far in his quest in the short weeks since their dinner together. So when Jim saw Sybok's message when he got back to the house after work, the Vulcan's face infused with pleased excitement, Jim figured it would probably be best if he forewent his afternoon nap that day. Far better to find out what Sybok was actually up to.

Back out into the heat he trudged, heading for the hospital where Sybok worked. Sybok hadn't actually said it was urgent and they should come see him immediately, but Jim didn't actually know where Sybok lived; somehow it hadn't come up.

The lobby of the hospital was, at least, cooler than outside, though that wasn't actually saying much. Still, Jim took a moment to appreciate the mild relief before approaching the front desk and asking for Healer Sybok. The Vulcan told him that Sybok was with his patients, but if Jim would care to wait, the healer would be informed of his presence in due time. The man at the desk did not have an estimate for when Sybok would be done.

"Is T'Korin, granddaughter of Kopek, still sick?" he asked the receptionist.

"She remains," was the simple reply.

Jim nodded. "I'm going to visit the children's ward, then, if Healer Sybok finishes before I'm back out," he said. The receptionist barely acknowledged him, but Jim knew the way. And while he didn't actually know T'Korin very well, visiting her was better than cooling his heels in the lobby.

She was once again perusing a padd as he approached, though she did set it aside when she noticed him. "Dr. Kirk!" she said.

Her eyes were bright, though it didn't look like fever. Her tone was almost cheerful. Her lips actually twitched upwards in what was nearly a smile.

Jim stopped dead just a few feet away from her bedside.

"T'Korin? You're...feeling better?" he asked cautiously.

She nodded energetically. Jim wasn't sure he'd ever seen a Vulcan do that before. "I am much improved," she said, and at least she was talking normally. Then she added, "Healer Sybok is very effective."

Sybok.

Jim recognized the reaction now, though he'd never seen it in a Vulcan before. Spock had been the only Vulcan Jim had seen Sybok do his pain-sharing thing with, but Spock had already been so much at peace with himself it had had little effect.

It was disturbing, seeing that effect on a Vulcan who did have pain running deep.  
Was this what Sybok had wanted to share with him and Spock today? Either way, Jim would have a few things to say to him.

"When do you think you'll be getting out of here?" Jim asked T'Korin, both to distract himself from his sudden anger at Sybok and to determine how encompassing the effect was.

"The healers believe I will be ready to be released tomorrow," T'Korin replied. "I anticipate returning home. I believe my grandfather will appreciate more company."

"He will?"

"He seemed very lonely when he visited this morning," she said. A Vulcan offering observations on another Vulcan's emotional state. "I believe he would benefit from speaking with Healer Sybok," she added thoughtfully.

Jim cleared his throat. "What, exactly, did Healer Sybok do?" he asked.

"He did not initiate a meld," she replied readily, "but he was able to feel my pain. He asked me if I wished it gone, and when I agreed, he expunged it. I am much improved, Dr. Kirk."

Was she really? Jim was aware of himself giving some noncommittal answer, but most of him was engaged with actually thinking about Sybok's empathic gift, as he hadn't for nearly twenty years. After Sybok's death, it hadn't seemed relevant, and its effects on his crew had dissipated, so he'd dismissed it from his mind.

He still didn't understand quite what happened, even after watching it in Spock's mind and hearing Sybok and McCoy's conversation. The rest of his crew decided to pretty much mutiny after Sybok "freed" them, but it had had pretty much no effect on Spock, and Bones had been able to put his closest friends ahead of even the man who "freed" him. Yet Uhura, Sulu, Chekov -- not even a year before, they'd risked their lives and their careers for him, and then Sybok shared their pain and they were all set to follow him and put their commanding officers in the brig.

He couldn't help thinking there was some element of coercion there.

"Dr. Kirk," Sybok's voice said from just behind him, and Jim controlled his instinctive jump as he turned around. "I am pleased you could come. Was your bondmate unavailable?"

"He's at work," Jim replied. "I thought I'd come see what was going on before I called him."

Sybok smiled at him, and Jim frowned. So pleased at what he did to a little girl...

Sybok must have noticed the darker mood his emotions were taking, though whether it was from his empathy or Jim's expression, Jim didn't know. But Sybok gestured him out of the ward, and Jim took a brief moment to say goodbye to T'Korin before he followed him into an empty consultation room.

"Is there something wrong, Dr. Kirk?" Sybok asked after the door closed behind them.

"What did you do to T'Korin?" Jim demanded.

Sybok tilted his head. "Her pain ran very deep," he said. "Almost all of her family was lost. She grieved deeply, and felt guilt that she still lived when the people closest to her did not, and loneliness. I have a gift that was able to take that burden from her. Does this make you angry?"

"So you force her to feel better?" Jim snapped. "Force her to accelerate through the entire grieving process--"

"That is not my gift," Sybok said firmly. "There is no force involved. I simply allow my patients to confront their pain, and to understand it need not have a hold on them. What comes afterwards for them is beyond my control."

Jim's anger drained from him -- he didn't think Sybok was lying, at least. But that didn't mean Jim approved of the whole thing.

"Sybok," he said, "has it ever occurred to you that pain is not always a bad thing? That everything we've experienced, the good _and_ the bad, has made us into the people we are? By taking someone's pain, you're taking a part of that person."

Sybok shook his head. "The pain on this planet is festering," he said. "It poisons. I simply lance the boil."

"For everyone?" Jim asked. "For all the thousands of people who lost nearly everything, the thousands more who have lost at least something? Make everyone confront everything they feel, one person at a time?"

"If one person at a time is how I must go, that is how I shall. But I am surprised to hear you speak like this, Dr. Kirk. You also disapprove of the way Vulcans deny our emotions."

Jim crossed his arms and perched on the room's single biobed. "I don't think it's good for you to deny and repress everything, particularly given the overwhelming grief most Vulcans don't want to admit they feel," he said, "but that doesn't mean I think they should all get rid of their pain. This could be a learning experience, Sybok."

"They learn when I share with them," Sybok argued. "They learn how to let go of their pain--"

"Do they?" Jim interrupted. "Or do they learn how to let _you_ take their pain away?" He looked at Sybok, who fell silent and blinked at him.

"Pain can be a poison," Jim continued softly. When he'd encountered Sybok in his own universe, he had guarded his pain fiercely, and he still felt he was right to do so. His pain had helped shape him, and he didn't know who he'd be without it. Particularly given the example of his crew, who had acted almost as if they'd lost themselves and needed Sybok to show them what to do.

But Sybok was right -- some pain could fester. His pain about the Klingons had festered. His pain about the death of his son had been pretty much leaking pus everywhere, and the way he'd let it affect him hadn't helped the Khitomer situation.

What made the difference, though, was that _he_ was the one who found a way to let it go. Spock had helped, Bones had helped, the rest of his friends had helped, actually working with Klingons had helped, but in the end, he was the one who let it go.

And he liked to think he really had learned something from the experience. It hadn't all been easy, of course, especially right after he came back from the Nexus. He'd been so out of his depth that he'd done much as the Vulcans on Ha-kel were doing, and denied everything he could. But confronting his denial had been the biggest hurdle -- after he'd jumped over that, he felt he really was better able to actually process his pain.

"But," Jim went on, "there are so many different things people learn from it. Or even not just having their pain, but letting it go themselves. If you do it for them now, where does that leave them in the future? My people have a saying -- give a man a fish and he eats for a day. _Teach_ a man to fish, and he eats for a lifetime."

Sybok regarded him with conflicted eyes. "They are in pain, Dr. Kirk," he murmured. "It is...difficult to feel their pain, as I can without even touching them, and do nothing about it. But I see your point. I do wish to treat the cause, not just ameliorate the symptoms."

Jim nodded. "Is there anyone else whose pain you've shared?"

"Some others of my patients," Sybok confirmed. "I believe I will for the most part refrain -- except," he added, raising a hand, "when it is my judgment that my patient will benefit most by having the boil of his or her pain lanced. I do have training in what humans call psychology," he said with some amusement. "Perhaps I have been more influenced by the emotional atmosphere in this city than I had previously supposed."

"It's hard not to let it affect you," Jim agreed. "I've got an empathic sense of my own, but it's very minor. I can get a sense of general mood, and sometimes project one of my own, but that's about it. I don't even think about it most of the time, but it's hard not to here, when the entire planet is tense with repression. I keep feeling like something's about to explode."

"As do I," Sybok said. "This sense is one of the things that inspired me to alleviate it as best I could. In that vein, I would like to address the reason I initially asked to speak with you."

Jim had forgotten about that. "Of course," he said. "Go ahead."

"You remember my primary interest and training is in healing mental and emotional ills, not physical?" When Jim nodded, Sybok continued, "These are generally not a big concern for my people. There are healers who specialize in the mental arts, though they treat mainly those Vulcans who have suffered mental damage through the use of telepathy or other mental gifts. Those who treated patients who are mentally ill as humans think of those conditions were few, and most perished on Vulcan.

"As well, there were very, very few healers prepared to treat emotional hurts. That profession was considered to have something of a stigma, both for being useless because a Vulcan should not need any such healer, and for being dangerously on the edge of emotionalism themselves, by letting their patients influence them. Vulcans who had emotional difficulties usually relied on their Clans and family for help, and for those who needed further assistance, the recommended course was usually Kolinahr training.

"However," and Sybok grinned now, "I have been able to argue successfully for the institution of an emotional counseling program at this medical center. I am currently the only healer assigned to such a program, but that it now exists I count as quite a feat. And already I have had patients, Dr. Kirk. Vulcans who have come to me of their own volition."

"That's wonderful, Sybok," Jim said, clapping him on the shoulder. Sybok looked briefly startled at the gesture, but did not seem perturbed by it.

"I am, however, only one person," Sybok said, the smile on his face fading. "I cannot counsel two million Vulcans, or even the fifteen thousand who survived from the planet itself. I have been given permission to operate a counseling service myself out of this medical center, but I have not been able to convince the administrators of the necessity to train others to treat the emotional pains. Nor is such a service to be found anywhere else."

Jim nodded. "It's a problem," he agreed. But when the Vulcans in authority wouldn't listen, what was the solution?

\--

The next time he shifted was actually in public, while in transit from work to home. But he didn't realize it immediately, because he was still on Ha-kel.

It did, in fact, seem an utterly normal day to him. The transport stopped at the bottom of the hill on which his house had been built. When they'd first moved in, he and Spock had planted many native trees along the path, their wide leaves providing some shade from the heat of the sun. This was especially helpful because Jim usually came home in the afternoon, when the sun was at its hottest. There were very few private vehicles on Ha-kel and Jim and Spock didn't own one, so they took public transport, and they climbed their hill.

The first thing he noticed was the lack of the trees. Jim stared, and looked around where they should be, but there wasn't even any disturbed dirt to mark where they'd been. There were just no trees.

Jim didn't know what to think about that, but he was not going to try to figure it out standing outside in the sun. With a sigh, he started trudging up the hill. The already-strenuous walk was much less pleasant without any shade.

The next strange obstacle was that the front door didn't respond to his biometrics. He stared at it in consternation, but it still didn't open. Even when he placed his palm against the reader they had by the door for a failsafe measure, nothing happened.

So Jim had to hack his way into his own home. Spock was definitely going to hear about this.

It didn't really hit him that he might have shifted universes again without realizing it until he got inside, though, because there were no traces of him there. This was still definitely Spock's house -- Spock's choices of furniture from when they'd moved in were there, though the living room lacked the big squishy sofa Jim had insisted on and instead had more utilitarian, ergonomic chairs. Jim's question of the house computer confirmed the place belonged to Spock.

It further confirmed the house did not also belong to Jim, though of course the computer had no information as to why.

He knew the computer, when asked a question by a stranger, would automatically send an alert to Spock. Jim didn't mind. The sooner Spock came home, the better.

Jim did, at least, know this was a universe where he and Spock knew each other, and was most likely at least one where Spock had fallen through the singularity. On the table beside a (much smaller) bed was a certain pendant Jim had given Spock for his birthday right before he'd gone to the conference on Qo'noS and Jim had fallen into the Nexus. Jim had been touched to find out Spock still had it and wore it regularly, and was further touched when it was one of the few things Spock had brought with him onto the _Jellyfish_.

In Jim's own universe, it was pretty much the only relic of their universe to survive. All they'd had were the things they'd been wearing, and for Spock, that included the pendant.

Jim touched it gently, then turned away. He knew what it said.

He thankfully did not have very long to wait until Spock got there, but he spent the time trying to figure out what he was going to say. It occurred to him only belatedly that he should have left the house immediately once he realized he had shifted universes.

All indications pointed to Jim not being in this universe. However that happened didn't really matter, but it did mean he would be with Spock for a few hours at most before snapping back to his own universe. He had no idea what happened to the universes he left after that. Did they fade out of existence? Continue on as if he'd never been there? Continue on, but with the people he'd interacted with baffled by his sudden disappearance?

But Jim didn't have very long to wonder, because that was when Spock arrived.

He was actually armed when he came in, but his upraised arm immediately dropped to his side when he caught sight of Jim, who was still in the bedroom, by the table with the pendant. 

For a moment, they stared at each other, then Jim licked his lips and said, "Hello, Spock." 

Spock engaged the phaser's safety before moving further into the room. He still said nothing, his eyes filled with both wonder and disbelief. He moved closer until he stood just in front of Jim, and then raised his free hand to touch Jim's face.

Jim closed his eyes at the brush of Spock's fingers against his meld points. His bond with Spock was clouded, as it usually seemed to be whenever he shifted universes, but at Spock's touch he could sense bright sparks of consciousness, of connection.

"This cannot be," Spock finally breathed. "I felt the snapping of our bond myself. I felt your death. How can you stand once more in front of me?"

Jim reached up and caught hold of Spock's fingers, intertwining them with his. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I won't be staying. I don't know what happened to me here, but I'm from a universe where whatever happened didn't. My Spock and I share this house. I'm not even sure how I got here, except that this is not the first alternate universe I've been dropped into. It never lasts very long, though."

The light that had been building in Spock's eyes went out, and Jim's heart clenched at the sight. Spock's fingers tightened around his, though, but Jim didn't mind. He wasn't very inclined to let go himself.

"Do you know how long you will stay?" Spock murmured, his eyes fixed on Jim's face.

Slowly, Jim shook his head. "A few hours is all I can guess," he said. "That's about how long the others have lasted, but I haven't been able to time anything exactly."

Spock nodded in reply, a jerky, rusty motion. Jim hated to ask, but he knew the more he found out about each universe he dropped into, the better. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked.

Spock didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about. "It was Nero," he said. "Before he transported me to Delta Vega, he informed us he would let you die on Earth when he destroyed it. That is what he did."

Jim sucked in a breath. "Earth is gone? And Vulcan?"

"Earth and Vulcan both," Spock confirmed. "Our younger counterparts were able to defeat Nero, but only after he destroyed two planets. The Federation has been crippled -- Klingons and Romulans both test the borders regularly. Andoria has become the new headquarters of the Federation, though the Vulcans are less than pleased with this. Starfleet was decimated with the loss of most of its flag officers. Our younger counterparts have seen...much action, and their legends grow."

Jim raised Spock's hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. "I'm sorry," he said. _I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry you were left alone. I'm sorry I can't stay. I'm sorry I have a Spock to go back to and you don't have your Jim._

"Apologies are illogical," Spock replied promptly, but Jim was pretty sure Spock understood what Jim hadn't said. He did not move his fingers away from Jim's lips, but he loosened them enough from Jim's grasp that he could brush against Jim's lips with his first two fingers, a combination of Vulcan and human kissing.

"Your universe?" Spock asked, now moving his hand back to take hold of Jim's again.

"Our counterparts stopped Nero before he could destroy Earth," Jim explained. "Vulcan is still gone, but Earth just has a new fissure in the San Francisco Bay. I got off the _Narada_ with the help of our counterparts, and we were soon together again. We moved to Ha-kel together."

"To bewail what is past is illogical," Spock murmured, "yet I believe that if I were human, I would be inclined to do such a thing. It is particularly difficult now I know how events could have gone."

A new regret was added to Jim's litany of mental apologies -- _I'm sorry that I bring you pain._

But Spock looked at him, and his eyes were clear. "Do not apologize," he said. "In some ways it is a burden, but it is also a gift. I am grateful to know there is a version of me who still has his Jim."

"My friend," Jim said, his voice thick and heavy. "My heart. If I could change your circumstances--"

"Illogical," Spock reminded him. "What is the human phrase? We all must play the cards we are dealt, Jim. But I am glad to have you with me."

Jim just nodded. He had no idea how much time he had left here, so he took Spock's free hand and raised it to his face; Spock's fingers fit over the meld points on their own. "Are you sure?" Spock asked, and Jim nodded again.

They spent the rest of their time together melded, something Jim could do, and indeed had done, for hours with his own Spock. He did not get a sense of the passing of time, but finally, when something inside him prompted him to pull away, he did. He barely had time to blink his eyes open again when

He sat up straight in his seat, catching the attention of his Vulcan neighbors in the transport. They regarded him curiously for a moment, but when he slumped down in his seat again, deliberately relaxing his limbs, they turned away from him again, surprised panic at the sudden movement forcefully calmed.

When he reached his own stop, the path leading up from the base of the hill was lined with trees. When he reached his front door, it slid open as the biometric scanner recognized him.

The furniture he picked out was there, and when he got to the bedroom, the bed was big enough for two. But his attention was caught by Spock's nightstand, where his own Spock had also left the pendant Jim had given him. Jim moved closer and picked it up, closing his eyes a moment.

His Spock, though, had more than a pendant.

Feeling a strange combination of buzzed and enervated, Jim stripped down to his underclothes and slid into his side of the bed. His thoughts were buzzing, but his eyelids drooped. He did fall asleep fairly soon, but his dreams were vivid, full of exploding planets, space debris, Nero's chillingly calm voice, and his Vulcan's sad eyes.

Waking up later felt like he was fighting his way out of sleep, something fairly unusual for him. But he did wake up when the mattress dipped beneath him, and he forced his eyes open to see Spock sitting on the edge, just inches away.

"I believe I felt it that time," Spock informed him. His brain was almost too sleep-fogged to understand.

"You did?"

Spock nodded. "It was very brief. Possibly I would not have noticed had I not set part of my consciousness to monitoring yours. I returned home not long after you did, but when I noticed you were asleep, I let you be. This is, however, the time you would normally finish your nap, is it not?"

Jim frowned, and asked the computer the time. When it responded, Jim was even more disturbed, because normally he would have woken up on his own. Even now, years after his retirement from Starfleet, he had a highly accurate internal clock -- nothing to Spock's, of course, but he was quite good at waking up when he wanted to wake up.

Spock moved, and Jim swung his legs out from beneath the covers. The best way to wake up was to actually get up, and food would certainly help too. Jim tilted his head at Spock, who brushed a hand against his before leaving the room. Jim got dressed again and headed out to find Spock already started on the evening meal.

They ate mostly in silence, as was the habit of Vulcans, and when they did speak it was about inconsequential things. They kept up the lighter chatting until after the dishes were cleaned and put away -- mostly by hand, both because they used few dishes and because mechanical dishwashers were still something of a luxury on Ha-kel -- and only then did they address the elephant in the room.

"This time it was a universe where Nero also destroyed Earth before our younger selves defeated him," Jim said, sitting down on the couch and tugging Spock down next to him. "And just like he promised, Nero dropped me down on Earth before it imploded."

"You were dead?" Spock inquired. His voice was calm, but his hand moved so he could hold Jim's.

Jim nodded, then laid his head on Spock's shoulder. "I was on Ha-kel still," he said, "so it took me some time to realize I'd actually shifted. I went home, but there was no trace of me. Then I saw that universe's Spock."

He didn't think he could explain everything he felt about that other Spock, but his own Spock must have got the gist of it through their bond, intensified by all the physical contact, because he didn't ask.

"I hated to make him explain," Jim murmured, shifting down slightly so his forehead nestled against Spock's neck, "but I thought the more information we had about where these universes are splitting off from ours, the better."

Jim felt Spock nod. "Have you come to any conclusions?" he asked.

Jim blew out a sigh. "Well," he said, "so far there have been two of them centered around Nero. There was one where Vulcan wasn't part of the Federation, and one where I have no idea what happened, just that Ha-kel wasn't colonized."

"So everything has had to do with Vulcan in some way?" Jim could feel Spock's brain working. "What about the details of your consciousness? In this latest one you were aware it was indeed a different universe?"

"Yeah," Jim said. "There was only one where I wasn't."

"What was different about that one?"

Jim thought about it, and something occurred to him, highlighted by his awareness of his own death in the latest universe. "I existed there," he said slowly. "In the others, I think either I never came back to this universe, or I died. Either way, there wasn't already a Jim Kirk there for me to inhabit, the Jim Kirk who is _me_. There was still my younger counterpart, but..."

"I understand what you mean," Spock assured him.

Jim shifted until he was sitting straighter, though he still kept hold of Spock's hand. "I really think it's time travel," he said. "My head usually feels foggy while I'm there -- I can't feel my bond to you, and I can't feel my extra sense. But I still get the impression that it's time travel."

"What still remains is to understand what method," Spock reminded him, but Jim shook his head.

"Two of the universes so far have been involved with Nero," he said, his voice beginning to come quicker with the excitement of an incipient discovery. "And the other two have still had something to do with Vulcan. The second time might also have been about Nero -- I came back just when the ground started shaking and there was something in the sky. That could have been Nero. Spock, it's like someone is trying to go back to change Vulcan's history."

"To preserve it," Spock murmured, and Jim nodded.

"The shifts only last a few hours," he continued, trying to talk his way through the problem. "And they're very smooth. There's nothing I could be doing to trigger them, since I haven't really been doing anything at all. It has to be someone else, and that someone is most likely Vulcan, to be trying to change Vulcan's history."

"Furthermore," Spock picked up when Jim quieted, falling into deeper thought, "fifty to seventy-five percent of the universes have been created around Nero. Jim, we have encountered time travel relating to Nero before."

That key piece seemed to fall into place, and Jim lifted his eyes to Spock's, knowing his own showed off the knowledge. There were still questions, but Jim knew their supposition had to be right.

Still, he said it out loud. "Red matter?"

Spock nodded, slowly, in confirmation. "Red matter."


	5. Chapter 5

They were pretty sure they'd figured out what was going on. Next they had to figure out what to do about it.

"They have to be creating red matter _somewhere_ ," Jim argued. "And probably somewhere on Ha-kel. I don't know all that much about my universe sense, but I doubt I feel everything that's going on. I never felt any of the tests the Vulcans in our universe did for their red matter. Proximity probably has something to do with it."

"Logical," Spock agreed. "And therefore I believe we should take this matter to the High Council, who will be better equipped to deal with it."

Jim grimaced, but he couldn't deny that. He did rather feel an inclination to go find the culprit himself, but Spock didn't have to voice all of the arguments against it; Jim knew them well himself. They were only two, and past their prime besides, if it happened to come to a fight. The High Council had a right to know what was going on in their backyard before Jim tried to deal with it. If reinforcements were necessary, the High Council was the one with the authority to call in Starfleet.

"All right," he said. "We go to the High Council."

They made their arrangements to see the Council as soon as they could, which turned out to be the next morning. It was sooner than Jim thought, but he found it difficult to fall asleep that night for nervous energy. Finally Spock raised an eyebrow at him, and almost sheepishly, Jim nodded, and let Spock reach across their bond to make him sleep.

The next morning he found himself practically buzzing with anticipation. He knew Spock could feel it and found it faintly irritating, but he could never calm himself for long. He wasn't sure exactly what he was anticipating, apart from possibly the end of these disconcerting universe shifts.

Jim's impatience led him to suggest they arrive there early for their appointment, and Spock indulged him, though he didn't have to say they'd just have to continue to wait once they arrived. But Jim found something to distract him momentarily in the antechamber reserved for people about to address the Council that day, because Sybok also waited there.

The three of them exchanged the ta'al, then Jim asked why Sybok wanted to see the Council.

"I seek the Council's support in recruiting counselors across the city," Sybok said easily. "The administrators at my hospital allow me my alternate practices, but they are not eager for more. I have hope that a decree from the Council will change their minds, and that of others in Shi'masu."

Spock, who had heard the story of Jim's discussion with Sybok from Jim, frowned almost imperceptibly. "You do realize the Council is no more likely to be open to the possibility than the administrators?"

"Of course," Sybok replied. "But there can be no success when there is no attempt."

"Logical," Spock said, and Sybok inclined his head.

"And you?" he asked. "Why do you need to see the Council?"

Jim and Spock exchanged glances and a brief flurry of images and impressions. They turned back to Sybok, both agreed there was no real reason not to tell him.

"For the past several weeks," Jim began, "I've been having a strange experience. I would be going about my day as usual, and then, in not even the blink of an eye, I would be in another universe. This would only last for a few hours before I would be back here again. Through clues I've gathered in these other universes, Spock and I have figured that someone is trying to go back in time and stop Vulcan's destruction."

Sybok's wide eyes were the only testament to his shock, but he had no time to ask any questions, because he was called into the Council room. Jim and Spock settled themselves to wait, though Jim did have to resist the urge to pace.

Sybok was not in the chamber long, possibly not even more than fifteen minutes, though Jim didn't ask Spock to be sure. He did give them a resigned shake of his head when he returned, but Jim didn't have time to commiserate. He and Spock were beckoned into the chamber next, and he had more things to worry about.

The Vulcan High Council was much reduced from what it had been before Vulcan's implosion, like the rest of its people. T'Pau remained, as did Sarek. He also knew T'Mou, Sovan, and T'Ral by face, though not personally. Another four he didn't know at all. A further two, including T'Korin's grandfather Kopek, were absent.

He came to a stop in the center of the room, Spock a supportive presence at his side. He took a deep breath, trying not to betray his nerves, and began.

"Councilors," he said, "you are aware of who my bondmate and I are, and where we come from. I have also told Ambassador Sarek of the history of how we came to be here, and this included my time in a pocket universe called the Nexus. My inclusion of this time was to explain how I, a human, could be alive in the time period I was before we arrived in this universe, but there was more that came as a legacy from the Nexus I did not think relevant at the time, and did not explain." 

He licked his lips. "I do not know precisely how this happened," he said, "but my time in the Nexus changed me. Before the Nexus, I was psi-null. Leaving the Nexus, however, made me sensitive to temporal and universal changes. I knew immediately, for instance, when Spock and I arrived in this universe that we were indeed in a different universe. I've also had other experiences in our original time.

"I tell you this because it is necessary to understand the next part of my story, which began several weeks ago. I had a dream, which I initially did dismiss as just a dream, but which I now do not believe was one. In this dream, I woke up on a Ha-kel barren of Shi'masu -- barren, in fact, of everything but the native species and me. It was as if Shi'masu had never been.

"Since that time I have been thrust into three other universes, all of them different. What is perhaps most significant is there was nothing I could have been doing at the time to trigger such shifts into these other universes, and I returned here after only a few hours each time. It became clear to me, and to Spock, that someone else had to be experimenting with creating alternate universes, most likely by means of time travel. Through proximity and ability alone, I was catching some of the aftereffects of these experiments."

He looked around at the Council, each member of which had a face so blank and still it could have been etched in glass. "Spock and I believe," he went on, "that someone on this planet is experimenting with red matter. Someone who intends to go back in time to prevent Vulcan's destruction." He paused. "Someone who should be stopped, because as tragic as Vulcan's destruction was, and as much as I wish it hadn't happened, red matter is a dangerous substance, and even more so when you don't know what you're doing with it. And I don't think there's anyone, in this universe or even in ours, who truly understands it. Spock and I think it far more likely that Ha-kel will be consumed by the red matter than that whoever is doing this will manage to prevent Vulcan's destruction."

His basic, quickly-prepared speech done, he stopped and waited. The councilors didn't speak amongst themselves, but Jim knew each of them was considering what he said.

"What is it you ask from us, Dr. Kirk, Ambassador Spock?" Sarek asked eventually.

"Resources," Jim replied. "The means to find this person and stop him. Her. Them."

"What if stopping this person is not the best solution?" Sovan asked. "Surely a universe in which Vulcan still exists is to be preferred to one where it does not."

Jim tried to keep his voice reasonable as he said, "Of course. But the thing is, we just don't think it's very likely this person will manage what he's trying to do. For one thing, how can he go back to precisely the place in time he needs? Spock and I weren't exactly able to control where we went."

"Did you try?" one of the unknown councilors asked.

"No," Jim admitted, "but I honestly do not see how we could have done so. We were consumed by the singularity. It left us where it left us, and we had no say in it."

"How can we know your experience is true?" T'Mou asked. Jim couldn't tell if she was trying to insult them or not.

"I vouch for the truth of his experiences," Spock said, stepping forward. "I have not shared them, but I have felt flickers in his consciousness that would be explained by such an event."

"Or perhaps by one of the mental diseases elderly humans are frequently prone to," T'Mou suggested. Jim still didn't know if she meant to insult him, but he was insulted.

He also couldn't forget his first experience with aging, accelerated and unnatural though it had been. He couldn't forget the feeling of his own mind becoming a stranger to him. He was beyond grateful his real aging had not proceeded as the fake one had, but T'Mou's words touched a deep-seated fear.

But he also remembered the way he'd acted then. Accusing Spock of betraying him. As proof that he still did have command of all his mental faculties, he would remain calm and polite and...logical.

"Elder," he said, keeping his voice even, "I have already explained how it is possible I feel these effects. They are not simply delusions. Furthermore, I do have regular medical check-ups, and no doctors thus far have said there is anything wrong with my brain."

"Dr. Kirk," Sarek said, before T'Mou could say anything else, "you have not explained why you are so convinced it is red matter you suspect."

"Honestly, part of it is just the mental feel of it," Jim explained, somewhat reluctantly. Vulcans certainly believed in mental abilities, of course, but they were also empiricists, and had likely never come up against this particular ability before. Neither had Jim, really, apart from Guinan and a few other survivors from the _Lakul_. "But part of it is that this explanation makes the most sense. I am convinced the universes I've been to came into being from time travel -- time travel does have a distinctive feeling to it. But how many ways are there to reliably time travel? I know of three. One requires a starship. One is located only on a specific planet. The third is red matter. Furthermore, I can't be sure, but I think the shifts I've experienced so far came about because of experiments. It would be logical for the culprit to be experimenting with red matter somehow before trying to seriously use it."

"I am not convinced Dr. Kirk is not imagining these universe shifts," T'Mou said. "We are all aware that humans have...vivid imaginations." Her tone did not imply it was a compliment.

"I give you my word," he replied, somewhat peevishly. "It's not my imagination. While I do have one, it's never been anything like this before."

"Humans are also far more capable of lying than Vulcans," another of the councilors Jim didn't know suggested. Jim found it a lot harder to keep his temper, but he knew losing it would do him no good.

"Why would I lie?" he demanded. "Honestly, can you come up with one good logical reason for me to do so?"

"As well," Spock added, "I am Vulcan, and I find lying as illogical as do you all. I assure you, Jim has had these experiences, and there is danger in letting them continue."

T'Pau chose that time to speak. "We have heard of thy deception to he who is now Captain Kirk," she said, in her dry yet strong voice. "Dost thou deny it?"

"I do not," Spock said, raising his head to meet her eyes, "but deception under those circumstances was logical. Only comrades who trusted each other, trust forged on their own, would be able to do such a deed as defeat Nero. But there is no logic in lying about the issue we bring before you. All we ask is your help in stopping the person who experiments so perilously with red matter."

"But that is not all Dr. Kirk wants," T'Pau observed, her eyes traveling steadily to land on Jim and stay there. "Thou hast asked me before to encourage more open expressions of emotion among Vulcans."

"Yes, because I think it will be healthier for them," Jim said. "But this has nothing to do with that."

"Does it not?" T'Pau asked. "Thou stands here poised to tell us of our peril. That hast been thy intention before. Is it unreasonable to believe thou wouldst try another means to thy end? As well, we know thou art acquainted with Sybok, son of Sarek, who had been exiled from the homeworld, though we were willing to welcome him here. We are also aware thou hast encouraged him in his request to have Vulcans display themselves to strangers."

The way she said it made it sound so vulgar, Jim thought. To her, it probably was.

"Bottling up all of your emotions isn't healthy," he began, but T'Mou interrupted him.

"For humans," she said. "Perhaps. But we are not human, Dr. Kirk. We do not need someone to push alien mores onto us and tell us how we must grieve."

"I'm not telling you how you must, only that you must," Jim argued. "As a race, you are in _denial_ , and this isn't healthy even for Vulcans! As Surak says, pretending there is not a _le-matya_ in your house will not make it go away if there is one."

"And if there is not?" T'Pau asked. "If thou sees the _le-matya_ because thou desires that the _le-matya_ be there?"

"I _don't_ desire it." Keeping his temper was so hard, but to be blatantly accused on delusions and lying.... Spock put a hand on his shoulder, offering his steady strength, and Jim mentally leaned on him as he took in a few deep breaths. "I want your people to be fine." He made sure to look all of them in the eye. "I just don't believe that's possible right now. Your homeworld is gone, your people devastated. Most of the familial bonds you would use to channel the energy of your emotions have been broken. The energy that's building up has to go somewhere."

"Sorrow and grief are not unknown to Vulcans," T'Pau proclaimed. "We do know how to deal with these."

"But not on this scale! Not when _everyone_ feels grief, when everyone has lost so much! You can't make proper decisions when you're emotionally compromised, and I don't know how any of you couldn't be."

"Because thou art human," T'Pau replied flatly. "Even bonded to a Vulcan as thou art, thou dost not understand what it means to be Vulcan."

"But I do," Spock interjected firmly. "Even if you do not accept Jim’s understanding, which I would count a mistake, can my experience be discarded as easily? I was emotionally compromised when our planet was destroyed, and I feel neither difficulty nor shame in admitting it. It is simply a fact. And it is possible to recover, with effort. Commander Spock of Starfleet, my younger counterpart, is progressing through his own recovery. He has rejected the illogical reluctance to ask for help that one needs."

"You cannot extrapolate your personal experiences to an entire people," T’Mou replied. "You may have been compromised due to your own involvement in the event. You and your counterpart are also half-human. Pure Vulcans would have less difficulty containing their emotionality. Your and your counterpart’s examples would not necessarily serve them so well."

“We control our emotions so they do not control us," one of the unknown councilors said, before Jim could do more than take in breath to yell at T’Mou. He kept quiet, but sent reassurance to Spock, soothing the slight spikes of guilt and tired frustration. "Judging by our history, I cannot think anything good will come of letting our emotions have free rein once again."

"The Reformation happened prior to our meeting other intelligent life," Spock reminded them. "Our allies will surely be willing to help us learn alternate coping techniques."

"The only reason there is any suggestion we need such techniques is because of our contact with other intelligent life," T'Mou said. "Had we never been a part of the Federation, perhaps Nero would not have targeted us."

"That is irrelevant," Spock said, almost sharply. "First, Nero was Romulan, and the Romulans are an offshoot of Vulcans who did not desire to be a part of Surak's reform. We have none but ourselves to blame for the Romulans, if indeed there is blame to be had. Furthermore, we have described to you the series of events that led to our appearance in this universe. The Vulcan of that universe earned Nero's enmity with its xenophobia and distrust. Do not let its mistake be your own."

"Do you then accuse us of bringing this fate upon ourselves?" T'Mou nearly spat.

"I accuse nothing," Spock replied stoically. "Part of sentience, however, is the ability to recognize both past and future as well as present, and to understand causality. There is no wrong in learning from another's example. Indeed, it is logical."

"The lesson, however, is not necessarily so clear," said T'Ral, who had been silent and contemplative up until then. She looked at Jim. "And I confess myself disturbed, Dr. Kirk, by the way you speak of what my people must do. It seems to me arrogant to dictate for an entire race what its needs are, particularly when you are not of that race yourself. I do not know if you comprehend the further suffering your path would cause were we to follow it."

"What I know," Jim replied, "is your people are suffering now. Medicine may sometimes be a bitter pill, but that makes it no less necessary for healing to begin.

"Furthermore," he went on, "this is not actually the issue I came to the High Council for. I did not come to argue about the benefits of emotion, but to highlight an imminent danger. Will the Council help me to stop the person experimenting with red matter -- which, I will remind you, could easily consume the planet and most of what remains of the Vulcan people if this person were to be somehow careless?"

There was a moment of silence, then T'Pau said, "Leave us a moment. Await in the antechamber, if thou would, and we will discuss this and return to thee a decision."  
Jim and Spock both nodded their heads and went back to the antechamber, where Jim immediately sank into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. He had not been anticipating a pleasant morning, but neither had he expected to be attacked like that.

"They are afraid, I think," Spock said gently, standing close beside him. "Not even Vulcans are immune to running from what they fear, or even that they fear."

Jim laughed semi-hysterically, the emotions he hadn't let himself express in the Council chamber flooding him now. "I am well aware of a Vulcan's ability to bullshit," he said. "Spock...you do see how deeply in denial they are, right? It's not just me."

When Spock spoke, it was slowly and thoughtfully. "Jim, I do not think this issue is so clear. You believe your path is right because of your perspective. They have a different perspective, and equally valid reasons to think their own path correct."

"Do you think I'm wrong, then?" Jim asked -- whispered, almost. If he lost Spock's support--

He was partially reassured when Spock moved behind him and took hold of his shoulders, kneading them through his clothes to dissipate some of the tension that had gathered there. As Jim relaxed back into Spock's hold, Spock continued, "I do believe, however, that you have a point. And I do believe that some element of the Council's arguments has been wishful thinking. _Cthia_ is a difficult path because it is difficult to see the universe clearly, especially in circumstances such as these. I believe the Council will find their way to _cthia_ in the end, even if not now."

The door to the Council chamber opened, and Sarek stood there. He beckoned them back in with the raise of an eyebrow, but the non-expression on his face was not encouraging. Jim was not surprised when, once they stood again in the center of the room, T'Pau intoned, "This Council can make no determination on the validity of thy experiences, Dr. Kirk. In the absence of clearer evidence, our decision is that no further action is needed at this time."

Jim wasn't surprised, but he was disappointed. And angry. He barely gave the polite jerk of his head when he left, and strode swiftly through the building, ignoring Spock's small attempts to make him slow down. Only when they arrived back in the lobby, about to go out into the heat once more, did he stop and take a deep breath.

He was angry, and he was disappointed, but he was no less determined. He whirled around to face Spock and said, "Once your people paid an unimaginable price for their stubbornness, even if it was the stubbornness of one Vulcan that led to the decimation of another. It's still a tragedy. No matter what the Council thinks, I'm not going to let anything like that happen again."

Spock regarded him serenely, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I would expect nothing less," he said.

\--

Spock said there was something he wished to ask Sarek, so Jim waited in the lobby while Spock returned to the Council chamber. He closed his eyes and leaned against the nearest wall, still fighting for calm. Even if most of the Council was afraid, and even if they were indulging in wishful thinking, it was disturbing to think how antagonistic they had been. It was very difficult to help a people who weren't willing to accept they even needed help.

Only a few minutes later, Spock joined him again, and they walked outside to be hit by a huge blast of heat. It didn't particularly improve Jim's mood.

"What was that about?" he asked Spock as they headed for home.

Before Spock could answer, though, they turned at the sound of someone speaking their names. "Dr. Kirk, Spock," Sybok said from only a few feet away. Jim hadn't even noticed him.

"Sybok," Spock said. "Were you waiting for us?"

"I was," Sybok confirmed. "I wished to inquire as to the result of your appointment with the Council."

Jim grimaced. "No better than yours," he said. "And maybe worse, depending on how much they attacked you for your suggestions. At least they couldn't have picked at your species."

"That is not entirely true," Sybok said, with the shadow of a grimace himself. "They were certainly able to tell me I do not act as a Vulcan should. They did not seem to appreciate my response regarding free will and individuality and the benefits of both."

At least Sybok seemed able to hold his own among the Council -- but Jim had firsthand knowledge of both how strong-willed and how charismatic Sybok could be. He turned to Spock again, opening his mouth to once again ask about Sarek, when

He was on the _Enterprise_.

And he was immediately noticed.

"You there!" a sharp voice said from behind him, and he turned around to see a command lieutenant, by her colors and braids, approaching him. "What are you doing here? How did you get on board?"

Of all things, Jim thought, and of all ironies, this happens right after that Council meeting? Out loud, he said, "Not voluntarily, Lieutenant. And I won't be here long in any case."

Her eyes hardened. "We'll see about that," she said, and, keeping her eyes on him, headed for the nearest comm panel. He made no move while she called Security. Nothing that happened here would matter.

Two security officers, their phasers already out, arrived a few minutes later. One kept his phaser on Jim while the other went to the comm panel and called, "Security to captain. We've apprehended an intruder on Deck 17, sir."

The voice that replied was Spock's -- the younger Spock's, Jim noted, not yet as deep as his own Spock's had been when they first met. "On my way. Take the intruder to the brig."

Jim rolled his eyes when one of the officers gestured him forward with his phaser, but he didn't object. He thought he'd actually welcome some time alone in the brig. The last few shifts had been emotionally strenuous -- a shift where he both recognized his being in another universe, and where he didn't go looking for any revelations, would be nice.

The officers put him in the brig, gave him a quick pat-down to ensure he wasn't hiding any weapons, activated the forcefield, and positioned themselves to either side of the doorway in parade rest. But he didn't have long to wait until Spock got there -- dressed in gold.

He looked so strange in gold. Not bad -- not at all bad. But still, it was very strange to see him in Starfleet uniform and not have it be his science blues.

"You may go," he told the security officers, his hands tucked at the small of his back. "I am quite capable of subduing him if necessary."

The officers both saluted and headed off. Jim assumed they would station themselves nearby, but still out of earshot.

Spock looked at him through the forcefield. He had no recognition in his eyes -- though of course, he wouldn't. Jim knew he was in a shift, so his own counterpart wouldn't be here.

"This ship is currently moving at warp four, and we have not been docked at any starbases or encountered any other vessels for three point two days," he observed finally. "Who are you, and how did you come to be on board?"

"What's the captain doing interrogating a random prisoner?" Jim asked in response. "Shouldn't your head of security be doing this?"

Spock's eyes hardened minutely. "He was lost in our last engagement with the enemy," he replied, his voice clipped. "And as a Vulcan, I have advantages in the questioning of prisoners. Particularly if they do not want to answer my questions."

Jim raised an eyebrow at him, knowing exactly what he was doing. "So you'd perform a mind-meld on your random helpless prisoner, who hasn't even done anything apart from inexplicably show up on your ship? And what do you mean, the enemy? What enemy?"

"I will take what actions I deem necessary for the defense of the _Enterprise_ ," Spock replied. He gave Jim a narrow-eyed look, and didn't answer his other question.

Jim shrugged. No reason not to tell him. "I'm from another universe," he said, and watched with amusement as Spock's eyebrow shot up. "I got here because someone in my universe is experimenting with red matter and I'm getting caught up in it. The experiment should end in a few hours, and then I'll be gone."

Spock, unlike a human, didn't start making protestations of disbelief. There was no logical point, Jim knew. Instead, Spock asked, "And your name?"

Jim watched him closely now, wanting to know if the name meant anything to him. "James Kirk," he said.

Something dark entered Spock's eyes -- he definitely recognized the name. "James Kirk is dead," he said, his voice even shorter than it had been for his security chief.

"From another universe," he reminded Spock, though his stomach twisted. "How did my counterpart die?"

Spock looked at him, and perhaps finally believed him, because he explained.

The story was familiar up until Spock had marooned the younger Kirk on Delta Vega for mutiny. Nero had still appeared, destroyed the armada sent to Vulcan, took Captain Pike prisoner, and destroyed Vulcan. Kirk had insisted the _Enterprise_ follow after Nero rather than regroup with the rest of the fleet, and Spock sent him to Delta Vega. That part was familiar.

But Kirk had died there. Spock had only found out later when he retrieved the escape pod, empty. Kirk had left the pod, and died.

Jim couldn't help comparing the rest of the story to events as he knew them. Because the younger Kirk and Scotty had not transported back on board the _Enterprise_ and proved Spock's emotional compromise, he had remained in command. They regrouped with the fleet in the Laurentian system.

Nero destroyed Earth, and Pike with it.

Nero was, in fact, still out there, and still armed with the red matter. He had not destroyed any more planets after Earth and Vulcan, though it was pretty obvious he was still willing to. The Federation headquarters moved to Andoria, and Starfleet came together the best it could, but things hadn't looked good for the Federation, particularly when the Romulans of this universe came in on Nero's side.

Soon afterwards came the biggest surprise of this war -- and it was a war. The Klingons, angry with Nero for the loss of their own fleet of warbirds destroyed when he escaped Rura Penthe, chose to ally with the Federation in their efforts to stop him.

But it was still war, and one where the Federation was barely holding its own. They managed to prevent Nero from destroying any more planets, but had not been able to defeat the _Narada_ , nor remove from him what Spock called the "black hole device," because they still didn't know it was red matter.

Jim didn't know how things had come to such a pass, but he had a guess. "He must have killed Spock," he concluded, thinking out loud. He clarified when this Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "My Spock, I mean. Listen, let me tell you how it went in my universe."

He gave this Spock the whole story, and as he expected, Spock came to the same conclusion. "That is why he hates me," he said, his voice darkened. "I agree with your conclusion. He must have killed my counterpart rather than leave him on Delta Vega, which left your counterpart without a rescuer. I then continued in my plans, and let Nero continue in his."

"You made the best decision you could at the time," Jim said. "That's all any captain can do."

"Yet my decision led to the destruction of another planet and the many deaths that have resulted from this war."

Jim shook his head. "You did what you could," he said. "Even starship captains are fallible. And you have managed to keep your crew and ship intact so far, which from what you've told me sounds like no mean feat."

"I have had to learn swiftly," Spock agreed. "But as you say, I make the best decisions I may with what resources and information I have available."

He turned away slightly, but Jim thought he understood, in the way no one else but another starship captain, or other such front-line commander, would. They made the best decisions they could, but sometimes those weren't good enough, and people died. Sometimes a lot of people.

The comm panel on the nearest wall crackled to life. "Captain to the bridge! Romulan warbirds approaching."

Spock was poised to leave when Jim said quickly, "Let me out. I might be able to help." When Spock hesitated, he added, "You don't have time for an argument, I know. But whether or not I can help, I promise you I won't do any harm."

Spock nodded, then, and turned the forcefield off. "I do not know why I trust you, even this much," he said as they began walking swiftly to the nearest turbolift, "but I do."

Jim knew why, but he didn't enlighten him. It would be cruel to explain when this Spock had already lost his Jim, and before they could even begin to learn what they might be to one another.

There were a few people who looked askance at Jim when he arrived on the bridge with Spock, who moved immediately to the command chair. Most bridge officers, though, were occupied with what was going on. "Report," Spock said as Sulu left the center chair and returned to the helm.

"Three warbirds, sir," Sulu said. "All cloaked. Shields are at sixty-eight percent."

Three Romulan warbirds against one Constitution-class starship were not good odds, even if that starship was the _Enterprise_.

"Have you returned fire?" Spock asked calmly.

"Yes, sir. We got a few hits in, but not many, and those were just lucky shots."

"Do we have a possible escape route?"

"Not likely, sir. The Romulans follow us when we try."

Spock's face was still, but Jim could guess what he was thinking. The odds were poor, and more so with the Romulans cloaked, with none of the _Enterprise's_ sensors able to find them. Jim had once had difficulty enough with one cloaked Romulan scout ship, and that was not three warbirds.

But that did give him an idea, remembering a later encounter with the Romulans when the _Enterprise_ was outnumbered.

He moved forward until he stood just behind the captain's chair. "Spock," he said very quietly, "I have an idea. Will you listen?"

Spock turned his head to face him. "I will accept any viable ideas you may have," he said, just as quietly.

"Are there any codes you have you know the Romulans have broken?" At Spock's nod, he continued, "Try to get a message to Starfleet Command, using that code. You want the Romulans to understand. Tell them escape is impossible, and your shields are failing. The only recourse left is self-destruct using the corbomite device, which will result in the destruction of the _Enterprise_ and any other matter within a two thousand kilometer radius."

"Dr. Kirk, we have no such device."

Jim grinned. "No, we never did either. But that didn't matter when we could make others believe we did."

"A bluff," Spock said, watching Jim carefully, as if for signs he was mentally unstable. From him, Jim found it amusing rather than insulting. His own Spock had looked at him like that several times in the beginning.

His amusement died when he remembered the Jim of this universe would not benefit from more of those looks. He was more subdued when he agreed, "A bluff, Mr. Spock. Excuse me -- Captain Spock."

Spock inclined his head. "There is no logical reason not to attempt such a gambit. Lieutenant Uhura, open a channel to the nearest Starfleet vessel, code four."

Spock proceeded to pull the gambit off beautifully, and soon the warbirds had warped out of range, the _Enterprise_ following along the opposite heading.

Vulcans always were good at bluffing.

The crisis averted, Spock returned the bridge to Sulu, then escorted Jim off the bridge once more. Spock did not return him to the brig, but Jim didn't know how long he had left until he snapped back to his own universe. Spock offered to keep him company until that happened, and though Jim wasn't sure he should, he accepted.

He was in the midst of teaching Spock not to underestimate his illogical and chaotic chess strategy when he blinked and once more was hit by the Ha-kel heat. He looked at Spock and Sybok, who were both staring at him.

He took a deep breath in, then let it out. The universes seemed to be getting worse, not better. And even if that weren't true, he was getting very tired of being yanked in and out of his life.

Jim was done with this.

"Dr. Kirk, would that be one of the universe shifts you spoke of?" Sybok asked.

"You felt it?"

Sybok nodded, and so did Spock. Jim wasn't surprised about Spock, who had felt the last one, but it was nice to have confirmation from an outside source -- one who didn't live in his head -- that the shifts were real.

Sybok was an empath, though, and one whose abilities did not rely on touch. Perhaps it was not so surprising. "What did you feel?" he asked.

"It was very quick," Sybok replied. "Not more than the space of two blinks. I caught many emotions such as resignation, horror, amusement, and sadness. I also caught hints of my brother, separate from the hints of Spock I normally get from you, bonded as you are to him." He inclined his head to Spock.

"Where did you go?" Spock asked.

"A galaxy at war," was all Jim replied. Another universe where his Spock was dead. He didn't want to dwell on it.

He couldn't help but wonder once again, though, how real those universes were. Had he just disappeared in the middle of a chess game, one that would never now be completed?

He shook his head to dispel the thoughts and focused on his companions again. It seemed to have happened a long time ago now, but before he'd shifted, he'd been about to ask Spock about his question of Sarek. Now he was able to complete his question.

"I wished to know if Sarek had told any but the High Council of the details of red matter," Spock replied. "You were the one who explained our story to him, Jim, when we first arrived in this universe. You told him of how red matter was made?"

"Just that it was made from decalithium," he replied, "and only because decalithium was important to the rest of the story." He understood what Spock's question meant. "Spock, you can't think the person doing this is a member of the High Council?"

"Sarek informed me he told none but the Council," Spock said softly. "It is possible they could have told others, but he does not think they would have, and I agree. The Council is accustomed to keeping dangerous secrets, and the precise details of how we came to be in this universe have been counted among those secrets."

Sybok broke into their conversation, asking with some urgency, "Would you tell me now in greater detail what these shifts are, and what you know of what causes them? You were speaking of red matter."

Jim let Spock explain as he processed what Spock had found out. A Council member was trying to recreate red matter. Did the rest of the Council know? Was that why they had been so antagonistic?

But that wasn't important right now. What was important was that he'd experienced a shift just minutes after his appointment with the Council, an appointment from which only two members had been missing. Unless there was a lab in the basement of the Council building, or somewhere incredibly close by, it was highly unlikely the culprit was someone who had been there.

Which left one of the two missing members. But which one?

Then Sybok said, "I think I know who this person is." He met Jim's eyes. "And perhaps I would not have if I had not shared T'Korin's pain."

T'Korin. "Kopek?" Jim asked.

Sybok nodded. "T'Korin, prior to her illness, has for six months observed her grandfather's obsession with returning Vulcan to its proper place in time. She has seen him leave and arrive home at odd hours. She has noticed him spending more and more time in one of the new laboratories out in the desert, far from the city and interference from its people. At home, she has heard him speak aloud about red matter, though no one else was in the room. When at the hospital, when he has visited her, he spoke of 'fixing' things. But he visited her only rarely, because, as he told her, he had much to do in his lab.

"T'Korin interpreted this as rejection of her, believing there was some wrong in her that her grandfather could not let go of his obsession with bringing back the rest of his family. Her logic was overwhelmed with grief and loneliness, and her pain was very deep. She now understands that her grandfather himself grieves."

Jim ignored the second part, because as much as he liked T'Korin, this discussion wasn't about her. "Why didn't you say something earlier?" he asked.

Sybok shrugged. "I did not see anything in it beyond an obsession dangerous perhaps only to Kopek himself. Before your information, I did not know someone was actually attempting to recreate red matter. But if someone is, and that someone must be a member of the High Council, the most logical culprit would be Kopek."

"Okay," Jim said, accepting that. "Do you know where this lab is?"

Several had been built out in the desert in the early months of the colony's existence. Vulcans were too much the scientists to leave off their research just because they had to rebuild everything from the ground up, literally. They'd prioritized the labs even above individual housing.

"I know which one it is, yes," Sybok said. "But what are you going to do with that information? Surely you do not intend to confront Kopek yourself."

Jim looked at Spock, then back at Sybok. "The Council dismissed our concerns," he said. "And I can't just let it go at that. Even if red matter weren't as dangerous as it is, you'd understand if you'd been shifting universes like I have."

A Spock who lost his Jim after years of marriage. A Spock who lost his Jim without even knowing what he could have had. A Jim who lost his Spock. A universe completely without Spock.

Jim knew his own priorities, of which Spock headed the list, were coloring his perceptions of those other universes. Certainly in at least two of them -- though maybe only one, depending on what that earthquake had meant -- Vulcan had seemed to be fine, which was Kopek's goal.

It probably made him selfish to know he would choose to live in a universe with Spock but without Vulcan over the other way around, but he had come to terms with his selfishness long ago. For Jim, when it came to Spock, the needs of the one outweighed the needs of the many.

But it helped that he honestly believed this couldn't end well.

"I will confront him," Jim said. He didn't even have to look at Spock to know Spock would stand at his side when he did. Jim knew Spock would not be anywhere else. "And I think we must do it now."

"Now?" Sybok asked.

Jim nodded. "I just experienced a shift, which means he is likely still at his lab. Whether or not any of the rest of the Council knows of his experiments, so soon after our appointment with them is the best time to ensure they don't tell him anything. So if you'll tell us where his lab is, we'll go now."

It was finally time to end this.


	6. Chapter 6

Sybok insisted on coming with them. Jim didn't mind -- Sybok could be very useful to have along.

Sybok also had his own vehicle, therefore making himself useful immediately. At least they had a way to get out to the middle of the desert now.

Getting there turned out not to be a problem. Neither was getting in, really. There was a bit of a snag when, upon saying they wanted to see Elder Kopek, the Vulcan at the front desk insisted on them remaining in the lobby while she called Kopek. Finally she let them go back to his lab themselves, but she was visibly unhappy about it -- for a Vulcan -- and cautioned them against disturbing the Elder's experiments.

They didn't bother to inform her that was why they were there.

Still, by the time they got to the right lab, she had clearly warned Kopek he had visitors. As they came in to the main lab, he looked at them from behind a wide window showing a smaller room, then ordered his two assistants to leave. Jim found his eyes drawn to the side of the room, where there was a larger chamber with clear windows. A vacuum chamber, probably. There was no other way to experiment with red matter. Any touch of regular matter on it would turn it into a singularity.

"Dr. Kirk, Ambassador Spock," Kopek greeted calmly through a comm unit; Jim could see the commspeaker above the window, but not a way to reply. Kopek made no move to leave his smaller room. "I am not familiar with your companion.” He looked on as they said nothing, then added, “You may speak normally. The lab’s computer transmits all sound from that room to this one."

"I am Sybok, elder son of Sarek," Sybok answered.

Kopek tilted his head. "The one who was V'tosh Ka'tur? You were exiled from Vulcan."

Sybok nodded. "However, there was no comment made when I chose to immigrate here."

"I see." Kopek dismissed him and turned his attention back to Jim and Spock. "Why are you here?"

Should they tell him? It would probably be easier to stop him if he didn't know their purpose, and he didn't try to fight them.

_Everyone deserves the chance to make a difference choice, Jim,_ Spock murmured along their bond. Jim met his eyes.

Spock had a point. It would be better for Kopek to stop himself. Jim wasn't sure that would happen, but he supposed he had to give him the chance.

"We know about the red matter," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

Kopek raised an eyebrow. "How did you find out?"

"You know details about red matter I told Sarek when Spock and I got to this universe. I also told him about the Nexus, and what it did to me. I felt it, Kopek. You've had five experiments so far, right?" Kopek nodded, his eyebrow still raised. "I was drawn into the other universes caused by the red matter each time."

"You experienced them directly?" Kopek asked, actually showing his excitement in the speed of his voice and the brightness of his eyes. "I attempted to direct the path of the universe created by my red matter, but it was more difficult than I anticipated, and my computer could only record minute amounts of data, nearly useless. Tell me everything," he ordered.

Jim snorted. He was not going to try to help, but... "You might be interested in knowing that in the latest two, whatever you did caused Earth to be destroyed along with Vulcan," he informed Kopek. "In fact, in the latest one just a couple hours ago, Earth and Vulcan were both destroyed and Nero was still on the loose."

Kopek frowned. "That was not my intention," he muttered. He focused on Jim. "Were you able to determine the catalysts for each universe?"

"Elder Kopek," Spock said, stepping forward, "we are not here to assist your experiments. We are here to insist you stop them."

Kopek shook his head. "Why would I do such a thing?" he asked. "Our people will be better off when I succeed in my experiments."

"If you don't end up destroying what's left of them," Jim reminded him. "How well do you understand red matter, truly?"

"The Vulcans in our own universe thought they understood it," Spock added. "Yet they were completely unaware of its ability to take any who traveled through the singularity back in time. What further secrets might the red matter hold?"

"That is why I am experimenting! To discover those secrets! I have already discovered a way to control the temporal end-point of the singularity. From what the computer recording my experiments has been able to determine, I am able to direct the destination."

"And where were you trying to go?" Jim asked. "The later ones were about Nero, I got that, but the first two?"

Kopek looked pleased at the question. "My first attempt I had less of a particular destination in mind," he explained. "I simply wanted a path which would lead away from the necessity of a colony on this planet. For the second, I had thought if Vulcan were not part of the Federation, the Federation would not bring its enemies on us, so I attempted to turn them away from the signing of the Federation Charter. However, according to the computer, that made no difference to Nero when he came, so I abandoned that attempt."

Jim nodded. He couldn't imagine Nero being stopped by Vulcan not being in the Federation. He'd been angry at Vulcan itself, not just because it was a Federation planet. And now Jim had confirmation that the earthquake probably had been Nero.

"Where you did get the decalithium?" he asked next.

Kopek made a gesture that was nearly a shrug. "Vulcans have been studying it for over a decade," he answered. "We knew of its properties regarding energy, but had not considered the possibility of red matter. Still, we had supplies of it off-world. No one questioned me when I requisitioned some for further experiments."

As nice as it was to get his questions answered, it wasn't why they were there. "Kopek," he said, "surely you realize how dangerous red matter is."

"After a single drop consumed my planet, how could I not?" he responded, with audible bitterness. Jim's apprehension ratcheted up another degree.

It wasn't a good sign that Kopek displayed emotion so openly. He'd be more likely to act from emotion, rather than logic. And while Jim wouldn't mind seeing more Vulcans acting from their emotions in a healthy manner, Kopek had red matter. He was even more dangerous than the ordinary Vulcan.

"And a single drop could consume _this_ planet as well," Jim stressed. "Any mistake could be catastrophic. Why are you doing this here when you know the consequences?"

"T'Korin needs me," he replied stiffly. "I am all she has left. I could not take my experiments to a remote location when I knew I would be leaving her alone."

"Do you think she does not feel alone right now?" Sybok asked gently. "I am an empath, Elder Kopek. I have felt her loneliness and her pain. She wonders why her grandfather spends so much time with his experiments and so little time with her. She needs her family."

"She does," Kopek agreed. "All of her family. It is my intention to return them to her -- to return all of Vulcan to her. She will be a great Clan Matriarch in the future, but she needs her Clan."

"She can build one," Jim said. "And so can you. All of you can rebuild your lives!"

Kopek glared at him. "It is not so easy--" he began, but Jim interrupted him.

"You think I don't know that?" he snapped. "This is the _second_ time I've had to rebuild my life, Kopek. The second time! Spock and I arrived in this universe with _nothing_ except each other, but we're moving on! And before that, I left the Nexus seventy-eight years after it sucked me in. Only two of the people I loved were still alive, and one of them only because of another quirk of stasis."

Jim made himself calm down. "No one said it's easy," he said, more gently now. "It isn't. It's really hard, and no less so the second time. But that doesn't mean it's not necessary, Kopek. You have to learn to move on, or you can destroy your life with what-ifs. And, if you have a substance as dangerous as red matter, you may end up destroying more than your own life."

"You would destroy T'Korin," Spock added. "Rather than dwell on what you have lost, look to what you still have."

Kopek shook his head. "I am careful," he said. "I will succeed."

"In creating red matter," Jim agreed. "And maybe even in not destroying the entire planet with it. But from what I've seen, you're not very good at directing it. Most of those universes have been worse than this one."

"Further experiments will refine the process," Kopek insisted.

"No," Jim said, firmly. "Kopek, we can't let you continue like this. It has almost no chance of ending well."

"How do you propose to stop me?" Kopek challenged. His hand hovered above the computer he stood in front of. Park of Jim itched to break open the door to the smaller room, but he didn’t want to provoke Kopek. Not yet, at least. 

"I presume you would not be here had you properly brought your concerns to the Council and they agreed that stopping me was necessary,” Kopek went on. “Planetary security forces, or even Starfleet, would be standing in your stead."

"We did try to go through the High Council," Jim confirmed, "and they didn't listen. But Spock and I are not without influence in Starfleet. They would come to investigate if we requested it. And they aren't emotionally compromised the way the High Council is, and you are. They would want to remove the threat red matter poses."

Jim wasn't entirely certain of that -- in his and Spock's initial interview with the Starfleet brass, they'd demonstrated interest in red matter before Jim shut them down. What was important, though, was making Kopek believe it.

"Spock and I were members of Starfleet for over four decades," he added, just to hammer it in. "In fact, I was an admiral, making decisions on cases much like this one." Well, not quite. But again, not necessary for Kopek to know. "Starfleet is not going to help you if we have to call them in. Your best bet is to just stop on your own. You can go back to your granddaughter and learn how to move on with your lives."

But Kopek didn't respond to the implicit threat. In fact, he didn't even look like he'd really listened to it. When he opened his mouth, what he said was, "I am not emotionally compromised."

Jim exchanged glances with Spock and Sybok. It was Sybok who replied. "You are, Elder," he said. "Remember, I am an empath. I can feel your turmoil, your grief and rage, very clearly."

"So can I," Jim added. "You heard about the red matter from Sarek -- did he mention my empathic sense as well? It’s not just Sybok who can feel your pain, Kopek."

"There is no shame in this," Spock said. "Most of our race is similarly compromised. I assure you, the cause is sufficient."

Kopek's eyes narrowed. "I am not emotionally compromised!" he nearly yelled, then clamped his mouth shut at the volume of his own voice. His eyes widened. "I am not," he said again, but now it was nearly a whisper.

"You are," Spock gently affirmed. "As was I, when it happened. It is only through the support of my bondmate and my meaningful work here on Ha-kel that I have recovered as much as I have. Perhaps you and your granddaughter can find healing together."

Kopek raised his hands as if to physically push Spock's words away. "My decision is logical," he said, visibly struggling for calm. His hands trembled. "Vulcan must be restored. Its destruction was highly illogical."

"It was," Spock agreed softly. "But the workings of the universe are often so. Remember _cthia_ , Kopek. We all must face reality-truth."

Kopek shook his head again, and kept shaking it. "No," he said, more in pure denial than disagreement. "Reality can change. _I_ can change it. I _will_ change it!"

He started typing into the computer, his hands flying faster than his mouth could speak. Jim, Spock, and Sybok all made a move towards the door to the room, Jim cursing himself for not battering it open earlier, but panels lighting up on the vacuum chamber distracted them. Jim looked through the clear window and saw something start to form. Something almost too small for his aging eyes to see, except it was bright red against a pale gray backdrop.

Kopek typed a few more commands into the computer, then looked up at Jim. "This one might interest you," he said, dangerously calm, and then hit a final key.

A moment later Jim was no longer in the lab. In fact, he no longer felt he was anywhere. He gasped, but couldn't get any oxygen, and closed his mouth before he could let any more air out. All he could see was blackness, broken only by tiny, distant points of light.

And something was pulling on his feet -- pulling stronger and stronger the closer he got. With a moment of horror that almost made him gasp again, Jim realized he was now being drawn into a singularity, without a suit. He didn't know what would get him first, the airless vacuum or the tidal forces the singularity gave off. 

Probably the tidal forces, which would make his death quick but unpleasant. If the singularity were bigger he'd already be dead, without having had time to even think of all this. And he had no idea what would happen if he died while in another universe.

_Jim!_ someone called. _Jim! You are not there, you are here, I have you! Follow our bond to me!_

Spock. Spock was calling him. Spock was showing him a way out.

The bond in his mind was now a lifeline, and he grasped it eagerly. The moment he did he felt Spock haul him out until he once again opened his eyes to the lab. He gasped in air, then let it out again, concentrating on his breathing for a moment. When he could, he once again looked at Kopek.

"What was that about?" he demanded. From what he understood, he’d left the previous universes when the experiment ended and the red matter Kopek had used for that trial was used up. The black hole, on the other hand, would have eaten whatever part of him went to that universe long before the red matter had consumed itself if Spock hadn’t pulled him out -- even now, Jim could see a trace of red in the vacuum chamber.

"I must be allowed to finish," Kopek replied, with the tone of one stating the obvious. "And you are correct. If Starfleet gets involved, I won't be allowed. Therefore you must be prevented from speaking to Starfleet. Your death will cripple your bondmate and an empath, and I will be able to continue my work."

He started typing again as Sybok worked the door panel, trying to get it to open. Jim glanced at now-empty the vacuum chamber before going to take over hacking the door. What had Kopek been planning to do with Spock and Sybok? His death would hurt them, but not to the point of keeping them from stopping Kopek.

Red matter started forming once again in the vacuum chamber. Jim saw it out of the corner of his eye, and redoubled his efforts on the door. Spock stood by, his still-sharp eyes catching anything Jim missed.

Jim grunted in triumph as the door hissed open. He began to move, but Sybok was already there. Kopek had not yet typed in all of his commands when Sybok's hand closed on his shoulder and he dropped. Sybok caught him before he could land on the computer, and lowered him to the floor.

"Good job," Jim told him. "Now we just have to take care of that red matter." He turned to Spock, who knew more of red matter than he did, to begin to ask how to dispose of it safely. 

However, he didn't get the chance. The computer calmly informed them in Vulcan, "Magnet Three is no longer functional. There is red matter in the chamber. Warning."

Inside the vacuum chamber, the red matter started drifting to one side.

Spock immediately moved to the computer and began typing, stepping over Kopek’s prone body. After several keystrokes, he nodded and said, "Sybok, the computer notes there are more magnets in the second room on the right. Please retrieve one now."

Sybok left without a word, and Jim alternated gazes between Spock and the red matter, still drifting toward the wall.

"I do not believe Kopek customarily did several red matter experiments in a row," Spock explained as he continued typing. "Doing so seems to have interfered with the superconductivity of one of the magnets. These seem able to retain superconductivity at room temperature, but it is difficult to make them retain that property, and once lost, the magnet is ruined. It must be replaced, or the red matter will soon hit the wall of the vacuum chamber."

Jim understood. Vacuum chambers provided conditions of vacuum, but without electromagnets to hold the red matter in place, it would hit one of the walls of the chamber, and the walls were certainly matter.

And red matter coming into contact with regular matter would provoke a singularity. Red matter was designed so the singularities it created would close themselves up within a few hours, but a few hours would still be too late if the red matter were triggered on the surface of a planet. 

Should the red matter even now drifting closer to the chamber walls touch one, Ha-kel would end up as consumed as Vulcan was.

Then Sybok returned, carrying another magnet. "Sybok, remove the damaged magnet and replace it with the one you hold," Spock ordered without looking away from his computer screen. "Jim, assist him. When the magnet is in place, there is a sequence of commands you will need to input into the magnet's control panel to sync it with the main computer. I will guide you."

Jim moved without an argument. Spock was the scientist -- Jim would follow his orders there without compunction. His adrenaline spiked, sharpening his senses.

He couldn't watch the path of the red matter from his position at one end of the chamber, away from the center window, but he didn't move to go look at it. His heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and fear, and thoughts of Vulcan’s implosion kept intruding, and how he had felt the destruction of the planet, the loss of all those lives, the push of this timeline further from his original universe.

He would not let that happen a second time.

Sybok soon had the magnet in place, and Jim moved forward to the control panel. "We're ready," he said.

Spock didn't respond -- at least not with words. Spock's guidance was not out loud, but Jim could feel his bondmate looking out of his eyes, giving him impressions of the steps he needed to take. They were fortunate Vulcans could multitask, because Jim could still hear the quiet clacking of computer keys.

Jim was not quite an observer in his own body -- he still controlled the movements of his hands. Spock only provided, as he said, guidance. But that guidance was enough -- it was only moments later the lights on the control panel turned red, the default Vulcan color of success. Spock's mental touch lightened until they were at their normal distance.

He moved around to look once more through the window at the center, and couldn't help a shaky laugh when he saw the red matter just two feet away from the nearest wall. It slowly moved back towards the center, drawn by the replaced magnet.

He and Sybok joined Spock by the computer again, and without a word, Sybok bent down to pick Kopek up and sling him over his shoulder. The same thought in Jim's mind was in Spock's as well, and probably Sybok's.

They would take Kopek back to Shi'masu and confront the High Council again, this time with greater proof. If nothing else, Kopek had attempted to kill Jim, if in a strange way, and likely would have tried to kill Spock and Sybok as well to preserve his experiments.

Even the stubborn High Council should have something to say about that.

\--

They couldn't reverse the process on the red matter in the vacuum chamber to break it down once more into its component parts. For lack of any other ideas, they ended up having to do as Kopek had, and run the experiment until the little drop was gone. Spock accelerated it as best he could, but the last alternate universe Jim found himself in was once again on Ha-kel. He didn't want to go home and see whether or not he lived there, so he ended up going to the biggest natural pool in the city and taking a nap on the orange grass inside a small grove of trees. When he was once again pulled away, he had no idea how long it had been, but he didn't really care.

Spock then directed Sybok to remove all of Kopek's store of decalithium while he himself removed Kopek's notes and research from the computer. Kopek had had at least two assistants when they'd come in, and possibly more, but Jim didn't know who they were or how to tell how many people in the whole complex were part of Kopek's little plot. Spock said it was unlikely they would be able to continue Kopek's experiments without his research and without his decalithium, so Jim satisfied himself with that. The High Council, or possibly Starfleet if the Council remained stubborn, would have to deal with the rest.

They kept Kopek unconscious while they had him, and headed back into the city, back to the Council's building. Jim didn't care what other business the Council had at the moment; he wanted to get Kopek dealt with now. So the four of them moved through the building, Kopek carried over Sybok's shoulder, until they came to the main doors of the Council chamber. The Vulcan watching the door tried to put them off, but they wouldn't be swayed. Still, it was probably Kopek's unconscious form that convinced him to go tell the Council they were there.

"For what reason dost thou interrupt the Council's schedule?" T'Pau asked when they were allowed in. Her gaze fixed on Kopek. "What is wrong with Elder Kopek?"

"What is wrong with Elder Kopek," Jim said as Sybok lowered his burden carefully to the ground, "is he was making red matter. He was, in fact, willing to kill us rather than stop making it."

"Kill you?" Sarek asked. His focus sharpened on the three of them, looking them over quickly as if making certain they were all right, before moving to rest on Kopek's limp form.

"Kopek once again induced his experimental red matter into becoming a portal to another universe," Spock told the Council. "He said he was able to direct the universe to some degree, and Dr. Kirk's initial experiences confirm the theory. When we informed him, however, that he must stop, the alternate universe to which he subjected Dr. Kirk this time was that of being drawn into the heart of a singularity. He could feel himself spaghettifying before I was able to use our bond to call him back."

"To experience death in a possible alternate universe does not necessarily mean attempted murder," T'Mou began, but Spock stared at her until her mouth snapped shut.

"As all Vulcans know, when the mind dies, the body goes with it, whether or not the body was initially in danger," Spock said. "It was no less attempted murder because Jim's consciousness was in another universe. I do not know what he had planned for me and Healer Sybok, but it is not necessary we know. In his emotional compromise, he both attempted to kill Dr. Kirk, and has been experimenting with a highly dangerous substance that could have destroyed this entire planet. He cannot be allowed to resume such experiments."

"Has thou proof?" T'Pau asked.

Spock inclined his head. "Any of the three of us would be willing to share our memory of the event," he replied. Jim and Sybok both nodded.

T'Pau looked at Spock evenly. "Then approach me, Ambassador," she said. "I would have thy thoughts."

Spock went up to her with no hesitation and held still as she fitted her hand to his meld points. Jim reinforced his mental barriers as he felt the strong ripples of her plunge into Spock's mind, but only moments later, she removed her hand and let Spock rejoin Jim and Sybok in the center of the room.

"They speak the truth," T'Pau announced. "Kopek has made red matter, in an effort to turn back the path of the universe. He did attempt to kill Dr. Kirk. They speak the truth."

And then Jim saw something he had never before witnessed, which was Vulcans all speaking at once, trying to talk over each other. 

“--cannot be true,” one insisted.

“Kopek is a _Councilor_!” another exclaimed.

“--should have let him--”

“--something so dangerous on a populated planet--”

“--but if it had worked--”

Some of them even had expressions, with soft snarls and widened or narrowed eyes. If it weren't for the slanted eyebrows and pointed ears, he would never have guessed they were Vulcan.

"And you say your logic is not compromised," he said, in commanding tones designed to carry over the din. They did, and slowly the councilors quieted until they were all looking at Jim.

Gently, he told himself. Don't berate them too much or you'll lose them.

And no one responds well to "I told you so."

"From my understanding of _cthia_ ," he said, "it means following the path of reality-truth. It means rejecting the wishful thinking sentient beings are prone to. It means rejecting the denial that builds up when we don't like reality. Following _cthia_ means facing reality as it is, not how we wish it to be. Is my understanding correct?"

"Somewhat simplistic, but essentially correct," Sarek answered.

Jim nodded with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "The thing is," he said, "no matter how absolutely horrible Vulcan's destruction was, trying to go back in time sets a very dangerous precedent. It says that whenever we don't like reality, we should just change it. It says that what _is_ reality doesn't matter, because we can change it any time we don't like it.

"Completely aside from the potential effects on the timeline, it seems like a dangerous way of thinking to me. Especially for Vulcans who claim to follow _cthia_." He paused. "Because this does not at all sound like _cthia_ to me."

"I assume you have a point?" T'Mou asked, her face pinched.

" _Cthia_ demands recognizing reality as it is, even when you don't like it. Even if it means that most of the surviving Vulcans are emotionally compromised, which none of you wants to believe. Even if it means you yourselves are emotionally compromised." He raised a hand when T'Mou opened her mouth again, and he had enough command of the room that she closed it. He looked around at the rest of the Council. "Maybe I am being arrogant in dictating what I think your needs are. That doesn't mean I'm wrong. Sometimes the only solution can come from outside, because the people experiencing the problem are too close to it to see it clearly."

"Assuming our _cthia_ is clouded and your own mind is clear," T'Ral said, leaning forward, "what exactly is your solution? To have us display our emotions to all, letting them control us as they would?"

Jim sighed. He supposed he couldn't blame them for their hostility now. No one liked having illusions broken. It was still tiresome, though.

"I'm sure you'll be able to find a happy medium, as my people say," he said patiently. "You'll be able to find a way that works for you -- and actually _works_ , doesn't just cover up the problem." He indicated Kopek's still form on the floor. "Trying to make something work when it doesn't is what led to Kopek having free rein with his experiments."

"Dr. Kirk, the reason Vulcans turned to logic in the first place was our inability to find this 'happy medium,'" Sarek reminded him. "We either use logic to control our passions, or they control us."

"This is an issue with which I have myself struggled for many years," Spock said, stepping forward. "I, too, am Vulcan. My genetics may have some amount of human, though they too are overwhelmingly Vulcan. My upbringing was as a Vulcan, as was my training. I have spent most of my life among other peoples, but I am still Vulcan.

"And I have found this happy medium. Surak tells us to master our passions, or they will master us. I do not dispute the accuracy of this statement, but I believe that, in a time more complicated than Surak's due to the influence of other peoples and cultures, there are more solutions to our dilemma than pure suppression.

"I spent years watching humans wrestle with their emotions, and from their wins and losses alike, I discovered something -- that those who wrestle with emotion, learn far more about mastering them than those who seek to hide their emotions, or suppress them. The humans never stop this wrestling, and as such they have mastered emotions for which we may as not yet be prepared.

"I believe that there are things we can learn from humans, and from all the peoples of the Federation, that can make us better able to truly _master_ our passions. After all, suppressing something does not lead to mastery of it. Mastery comes from understanding it, and being able to use it without it using you as well."

"What is the purpose of logic?" Jim asked, in the wake of a moment of silence brought by Spock's words. "Is it an end in its own right? I was under the impression that Vulcans used logic to control your emotions and keep yourselves from being savages. However, I suggest that if logic is not sufficient for the task in the wake of Vulcan's destruction, then it's logical to pursue other options."

"And it is not sufficient for the task," Sybok added, coming to stand at Jim's other shoulder. "I did not believe it was even before Vulcan was destroyed, but I _know_ it is insufficient now. Kopek is but further confirmation of this. I will remind you once again I am an empath who does not even require touch to feel others' emotions. I can tell you in absolute certainty that logic is not sufficient to overcome the grief of our loss."

"I understand you're reluctant to change a method of dealing with the universe that has worked for millennia," Jim said. "But I submit to you, Councilors, that never in those millennia have you encountered a situation like this. Never have your people experienced such devastation. When the circumstances have changed so drastically, one cannot assume the techniques that have worked for millennia will continue to work as well as they have been. Vulcans are still experiencing dramatic grief as they never have before. You have to be able to adapt in order to deal with it."

Sarek looked at the rest of the Council, and then he looked at them, his gaze heavy. Jim wondered what he saw. Three troublemakers, or his son and two who had been his family in another universe? Finally, he spoke.

"I believe their logic is sound," he said, those few words allowing Jim to relax. Then he raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Ambassador Spock, Dr. Kirk, Healer Sybok, that you suggest we do? The mandate to 'find a happy medium' is somewhat vague," he pointed out with some amount of humor.

Jim set his shoulders against the informal motion of shrugging. "Healer Sybok has suggested a program of emotional therapy to be instituted across the city," he said. "That would be a start. And I think he would be better equipped to tell you what else might benefit you."

Jim took a half-step back, and so did Spock, leaving Sybok the one standing forward, the attention in the room shifting to him. Jim could feel Sybok's exhilarated buzz as he took another step forward.

"As Dr. Kirk said, therapy is a good start, but only a start," Sybok said. "And Ambassador Spock's reminder of the resources that other peoples present is also good. One suggestion I have for helping our people is to have the Federation send in more aid workers, but this time ones focused on our emotional rather than physical needs. And..."

Jim and Spock exchanged a glance as Sybok continued.

It was a good start.

\--

Days later, Sybok was once again having dinner with them, telling them about his progress. 

Some members of the Council still resisted the need to adapt, but most had started to seriously examine themselves and their commitment to _cthia_. These members were helping push many of Sybok's suggestions through, including non-Vulcan emotional counselors to be stationed at hospitals throughout the city, and contacting more of the Vulcans who had not lived on Vulcan and were generally more stable.

The younger Spock volunteered to come assist his people as the _Enterprise_ was rebuilt, and the younger Kirk, on medical leave, volunteered to accompany him. Jim and Spock both looked forward to the chance to see their younger counterparts and friends in person again, even though it would probably be difficult to continue to keep their relationship secret. Still, they would manage. Jim was especially looking forward to seeing the younger Spock and whether his emotional courage in choosing love over logic was benefiting him -- he was certain that emotional courage would serve as an example to the rest of his people.

"I have charge of Kopek," Sybok went on. "He is kept securely in a center specifically for mental and emotional health. He does not seem violent, but my associates and I keep watch over him."

"And T'Korin?" Jim asked. "If I remember right, Kopek was the only family she had left. What's going to happen to her?"

And Sybok beamed at him. "I have petitioned for custody of her," he said. "And I believe my petition will be granted. My reputation in the city has been rising, even if I do not currently have a bondmate and stable family situation. That will come soon enough."

"Congratulations," Jim offered, maybe a bit pre-emptive, but still heartfelt. Sybok would probably make a good father.

"And the two of you?" Sybok asked, tilting his head. "What is next for you?"

Jim looked at Spock and shrugged. "Back to work, I suppose," he said. "The physical needs of the colony don't stop just because the emotional needs are finally starting to be met. I still need to deal with food and replicators."

"And I with computers and defense," Spock agreed. "Life does continue on, even in the aftermath of big events and great change."

Jim nodded and took Spock's hand, accepting Spock's squeeze. "There are plenty of things still left for all of us to do," he said. "Now we can do them."

**Author's Note:**

> First: A lot of the plot was inspired by the ST: Next Generation episode "Yesterday's Enterprise." Basically, the Enterprise encounters a temporal anomaly where the present shifts to an alternate universe; Guinan is the only one who realizes that something is wrong with the new universe, and when the anomaly is resolved and everything returns to how it was, Guinan is the only one who remembers the new universe. Guinan later explains in "Generations" that she got her universe sense from being in the Nexus, so I extrapolated that Kirk might have a similar reaction, since I gave him a similar universe sense in Start Infinity Again.
> 
> Second: A bit of Spock's dialogue in the final Council scene comes from "Spock's World," the novel by Diane Duane.
> 
> Third: Enormous thanks go to my twin sister, who knows a lot more about physics than I do and put up with me asking her to help me make my climax scientifically plausible. She also told me about spaghettification, and I still love that that's the actual scientific word for what happens to you if you fall into a black hole.
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.


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